UC-NRLF 


fThe  Prince  Chap 


&Y 
EDWARELPEPLE 


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BILLETED. 

A  comedy  in  3  acts,  by  F.  Tcnnison  Jesse  and  H.  Harwood.  4  males, 
5  females.  One  easy  interior  scene.  A  charming  comedy,  constructed 
with  uncommon  skill,  and  abounds  with  clever  lines.  Margaret  Anglin'* 
big  success.  Amateurs  will  find  this  comedy  easy  to  produce  and  popular 
with  all  audiences.  Price,  60  Cents. 

NOTHING  BUT  THE  TRUTH. 

A  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  James  Montgomery.  5  males,  6  females.  Cos 
tumes,  modern.  Two  interior  scenes.  Plays  W/*  hours. 

Is  it  possible  to  tell  the  absolute  truth— even  for  twenty-four  hours?  It  is— 
tt  least  Bob  Bennett,  the  hero  of  "Nothing:  But  the  Truth,"  accomplished  the 
feat.  The  bet  he  made  with  his  business  partners,  and  the  trouble  he  got  into— 
with  his  partners,  his  friends,  and  his  fiancee— this  is  the  subject  of  William 
Collier's  tremendous  comedy  hit.  "Nothing  But  the  Truth"  can  be  whole-heartedly 
recommended  as  one  of  the  most  sprightly,  amusing  and  popular  comedies  that 
*ius  country  can  boast.  Price,  00  Cents. 

IN  WALKED  JIMMY. 

A  comedy  in  4  acts,  by  Minnie  Z.  Jaffa.  10  males,  2  females  (although 
any  number  of  males  and  females  may  be  used  as  clerks,  etc.)  Tw« 
interior  scenes.  Costumes,  modern.  Plays  2%  hours.  The  thing  into 
which  Jimmy  walked  was  a  broken-down  shoe  factory,  when  the  clerks 
had  all  been  fired,  and  when  the  proprietor  was  in  serious  contemplation 
©f  suicide. 

Jimmy,  nothing  else  but  plain  Jimmy,  would  have  been  a  mysterious  figure 
had  it  not  been  for  his  matter-of-fact  manner,  his  smile  and  his  everlasting 
humanness.  He  put  the  shoe  business  on  its  feet,  won  the  heart  of  the  girl 
clerk,  saved  her  erring  brother  from  jail,  escaped  that  place  as  a  permanent 
boarding  house  himself,  and  foiled  the  villain. 

Clean,  wholesome  comedy  with  just  a  touch  of  human  nature,  just  a  dash  o 
excitement  and  more  than  a  little  bit  of  true  philosophy  make  "In  Walked  Jimmy" 
one  of  the  most  delightful  of  plays.  Jimmy  is  full  of  the  religion  of  life,  the 
religion  of  happiness  and  the  religion  of  helpfulness1,  and  he  so  permeates  th« 
atmosphere  with  his  "religion"  that  everyone  is  happy.  The  spirit  of  optimism, 
good  cheer,  and  hearty  laughter  dominates  the  play.  There  is  not  a  dull  moment 
§a  any  of  the  four  acts.  We  strongly  recommend  it.  Price,  60  Cents; 

MARTHA  BY-THE-DAY. 

An  optimistic  comedy  in  three  acts,  by  Julie  M.  Lippmann,  author  ol 
the  "Martha"  stories.  5  males,  5  females.  Three  interior  scenes.  Co$ 
tumes  modern.  Plays  2^  hours. 

It  is  altogether  a  gentle  thing,  this  play.  It  is  full  of  quaint  humor,  oldf 
fashioned,  homely  sentiment,  the  kind  that  people  who  see  the  play  will  recall 
and  chuckle  over  tomorrow  and  the  next  day. 

Miss  Lippmann  has  herself  adapted  her  very  successful  book  for  stage  service 
and  in  doing  this  has  selected  from  her  novel  the  most  telling  incidents,  infectious 
•omedy  and  homely  sentiment  for  the  play,  and  the  result  is  thoroughly  delightful 

Price,  60  Cents 

(The  Above  Are  Subject  to  Royalty  When  Produced) 
SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  <  ity 

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THE  PRINCE  CHAP 


B  Come&fi  in   Cbvcc  Beta 


EDWARD  PEPLE 


COPYRIGHT,  1904,  BY  EDWARD  PEPLB 
COPYRIGHT,  1914,  BY  EDWARD  PEPLE 


CAUTION.  This  play  is  fully  protected  under  the  copyright  laws 
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THE  PRINCE  CHAP 
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P4a.a, 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP 


CAST. 

WILLIAM  PEYTON  :  An  American  sculptor.  In  Act 
First,  a  man  of  twenty-three  years  of  age; 
slight,  dark,  with  an  expression  of  tenderness 
combined  with  the  merriment  of  youth. 

JACK  RODNEY:  The  Earl  of  Huntington;  an  ama 
teur  painter.  A  blond  Englishman,  with  an 
open,  honest  and  kindly  face.  Faultless  dress 
and  easy  bearing.  In  Act  Second,  aged  twenty 
years. 

MARCUS  RUN  ION  :  An  English  serving  man,  of 
stolid  countenance,  side  whiskers  and  shaven 
chin  and  lip. 

BALLINGTON  :   "1 

YADDER  :  >•  Artists  in  the  studio  building. 

FRITZ  :  J 

TRUCKMAN  :  Conventional. 

CLAUDIA:  (Part  to  be  taken  by  three  actresses.  In 
Act  First,  a  child  of  six.  In  Act  Second,  a 
child  of  eight  years;  and  in  Act  Third,  a  slen 
der,  thoughtful  girl  of  eighteen. 

MRS.  ARRINGTON  :  Claudia's  Mother.  A  former 
model;  a  woman  of  culture  and  refinement, 
but  thin,  pale  and  poorly  clad. 

PHOEBE  PUCKERS:  A  maid  of  all  work  in  the 
studio  building.  In  Act  First,  a  ragged,  un 
kempt  (e Slavey"  of  the  London  lower  class; 
freckled,  ugly  and  careless. 

ALICE  TRAVERS  :  An  American  girl  of  twenty  years; 
handsome,  stylish,  the  fiancee  of  William  Pey 
ton. 


FI    355 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I : — Time  of  action,  an  evening  of  the  pres 
ent  day. 

Location,  apartment  in  the  studio  of  MR.  WIL 
LIAM  PEYTON,  a  youthful  sculptor,  in  London. 
Stage  equipment  as  follows'. 
A  large,  bare  room  with  modest  furnishings, 
draperies,  plaster  casts,  a  sketching  easel,  busts 
of  clay,  etc.  Working  table  at  centre,  upon 
which  is  an  unfinished  figure  covered  by  a  wet 
cloth.  A  few  chairs,  a  large  lounge  at  left 
front,  placed  diagonally  before  fire-place. 
Small  side  table  at  right,  beyond  which  is  a 
box.  Upon  the  box  is  a  small  oil  stove,  a  few 
pans,  plates,  etc.  Large  window  at  left  rear, 
above  which  is  a  skylight  with  draw  curtains. 
Adjoining  room  with  closed  door  at  rear  cen 
tre.  Entrances  at  right  and  left  rear.  A  fe^v 
candles  are  lit,  and  a  fire  is  burning  in  grate 
at  left. 

DISCOVERED: — RUNION,  an  English  serving  man, 
entering  from  c.  He  crosses  to  L.,  lays  a  dress 
ing  gown  on  the  sofa  and  places  a  pair  of 
slippers  before  the  fire;  stirs  the  fire;  a  de 
canter  and  several  glasses  on  the  centre  table 
at  rise.  RUNION  scrapes  tVe  dottle  from  a 
pipe  and  replaces  it.  A  knock  is  heard  at  the 
door  R. 

8 


4  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

RUNION.  Come.  (He  opens  the  door  to  admit  a 
TRUCKMAN,  who  staggers  in  with  a  heavy  square 
box  on  his  shoulders,  carrying  a  large  receipt  book 
between  his  teeth.  The  MAN  makes  an  inarticulate 
sound  in  the  form  of  a  question.  Regarding  him 
with  slow  disdain)  'Ope  I  may  die  if  'e  don't  think 
'd's  talkin'!  (Jerking  the  receipt  book  from  the 
TRUCKMAN'S  mouth)  Now,  then,  my  man!  Wat 
is  it? 

TRUCKMAN.  (Sullenly)  This  'ere's  a  box  o' 
clay  from  Melville,  Varden  Company.  William 
Peyton,  two  and  six  to  pay. 

RUNION.  (With  contempt)  Two  an'  six  for  a 
box  of  dirt !  It's  'ighway  robbery.  /  wouldn't  give 
you  tup'ence  ha'  penny  for  all  the  busts  of  clay  an' 
graving  himmages  of  dirt  an'  stone  between  'ere  and 
Yorkshire. 

TRUCKMAN.  Look  'ere!  This  bloomin'  box  is 
'eavy ! 

RUNION.    Then  w'y  don't  you  put  it  down? 
TRUCKMAN.      (Grinning)      I'm   waitin'   for  the 
two  an'  six. 

RUNION.  (Crossing  to  the  mantel)  Now,  w'at 
a  graspin',  mistrustful  nature  some  people  'as. 
As  if  a  sculptor  gentleman  didn't  always  pay 
for  everythink!  (Returning  with  money,  which 
he  takes  from  the  mantel)  Now,  then,  shall 
I  put  it  in  your  mouth,  my  man?  That's  where 
you  seem  to  carry  things.  (The  MAN  grunts  and 
begins  puttwg  down  the  box  R.  of  the  table  c.) 
Easy  now!  Easy!  (The  box  drops  heavily. 
Small  cast  falls)  Is  that  w'at  you  calls  puttin'  a 
thing  down  easy- — liable  to  smash  and  mash  Mr. 
Peyton's  plarster  riggers  and  expensive  busts  of 
clay? 

TRUCKMAN.  Beg  pardon,  but  my  'ands  is  cold 
— Lord  they's  froze, 

RUNION.    An'  if  Mr.  Peyton  was  'ere,  'e'd  thaw 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  5 

you  out,  an'  no  mistake.  'Ere's  your  money.  Any- 
think  to  sign? 

TRUCKMAN.  (Handing  receipt  book)  Nothink 
but  the  receipt. 

RUNION.  (Signing  the  book  and  returning  it) 
There  you  are.  Good-night,  my  man.  (Starts  to 
mantel  L.  As  the  TRUCKMAN  sees  decanter  on 
table  c.,  he  lingers)  Well ? 

TRUCKMAN.    Anythink  for  my  trouble? 

RUNION.  'Ardly,  w'en  you  comes  in  like  a  elefint 
from  the  'ippodrome.  Nex'  time, — perhaps. 

TRUCKMAN.  That  'ere's  a  'eavy  box,  ain't  it? 
( RUNION  nods)  An'  it's  a  cold  night,  ain't  it? 
(Nod)  An'  three  flights  o'  bally  stairs  an'  me 
abuttin'  of  me  'ead  on  every  lanclin',  ain't  it? 
(Nod)  An'  me  workin'  overtime,  an'  a  wife  and 
four  children  ...  an'  that's  sperrits  on  that  table 
over  there,  ain't  it?  (Nod)  Well?  (Starts  for 
the  liquor  on  table  c.) 

RUNION.  (Bus.,  intercepts  him;  crossing  to  the 
table)  Touch  not,  taste  not,  'andle  not,  is  a  good 
motter,  my  man;  but  if  you  wants  to  gobble  fiery 
liquids  in  this  woiT,  and  waller  in  brimstone  in  the 
nex',  w'y,  it's  no  affair  of  Runion's!  (L.  of  table f 
takes  up  decanter  and  glass) 

TRUCKMAN.  (With  a  grin)  I'll  take  the 
chances  an' —  (  RUNION  pours  very  little  in  glass) 
— an'  'arf  a  glass.  ( RUNION  gives  him  a  look) 
Your  'calth,  sir.  (Drinks)  Thank  you,  sir,  good 
night.  (Crossing  to  R.)  Brimstone  wouldn't  be 
'arf  bad  in  weather  like  this  'ere.  Thank'e,  sir, 
good-night.  (Exit  at  the  door  R.) 

RUNION.  (Wiping  the  glass  carefully,  then 
pouring  out  another  portion)  Ts  'abits  will  be  a 
judgment  on  'im  jus'  as  sure  as  sin  is  sin.  (He 
takes  a  sip)  Strange  ways  some  people  has; 
strange  ways  .  .  .  an'  Mr.  Peyton  acatchin'  of  'em 
every  day.  (Shaking  his  head  sadly)  'E's  amakin' 
of  graving  himmages  with  'is  'ands,  an'  pays  good 


6  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

money  for  a  box  o5  dirt  to  make  'em  with.  (Top 
ping  the  box)  Now,  this  'ere  is  a  box  of  dirt.  .  .  . 
'E  calls  it  clay  ....  an'  it  cost  'im  two  an'  six.  At 
'ome  'e  could  have  a  ton  of  it  for  the  arskin'.  'E 

means  well,  Mr.  Peyton  does (Sighing) 

but  them  artist  gentlemen  is  awful  simple-minded 
creeters — pitiful! — pitiful!  (Lifting  his  glass) 
Well,  'ere's  'opin'  Vll  give  up  messin'  about  with 
mud  ....  an'  marry  some'ne  as  will  take  care  of 
'im.  (He  tilts  his  head  back  and  drinks,  but  nearly 
chokes  himself  as  the  door  at  the  right  flies  open 
suddenly  and  violently) 

(Enter  PHOEBE  PUCKERS,  a  small,  ragged,  unkempt 
servant  girl,  with  side  plats  looped  and  tied  with 
white  string;  her  skirt  is  dingy  and  short,  dis 
closing  loose,  striped  stockings  and  run-down 
shoes.  She  has  a  coal-scuttle  in  one  hand,  a 
brick  tied  to  a  string  in  the  other.  She  drops 
the  scuttle  with  a  bang,  darts  across  the  room, 
jumps  over  the  sofa  and  crouches  before  the 
fire.) 

PUCKERS.  (At  fire-place;  shivering  and  pulling 
the  hearth  rug  around  her  shoulders)  OO — oo — 
oo!  But  it's  cold  down  the  cellar!  The  Hartic  re 
gions  is  just  stoves  beside  that  cellar! 

RUNION.     (Sternly)     Puck-ers! 

PUCKERS.  An*  it's  a  mercy  of  'Eaven  w'en  the 
hartists  an'  sculptures  'oilers  for  a  pail  of  coals,  an' 
lets  me  warm'  the  iciclesses  offn  my  nose  an'  toes. 

RUNION.  (Down  R.  c.,  sternly)  Puckers!  I 
am  speakin'!  Wat  d'ye  mean  by  abustin'  in  'ere 
like— like  a  railroad  'orror— afrightenin'  a  gentle 
man  out  of  'is  seven  wits  ? 

PUCKERS.  Come  to  bring  the  coals.  Ho,  Lud, 
can't  you  see  the  pail? 

RUNION.    I  didn't  call  for  no  coals! 

PUCKERS.    Didn't  you,  now?    Thought  I  'card 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  7 

you  call  me — twiced.  Any'ow,  if  you  knowed  'ow 
froze  I  was,  you  wouldn't  a  'ad  the  'eart  not  to. 

RUNION.    Well,  I  didn't! 

PUCKERS.  Then  it  must  a  bin  the  woices  of  the 

angels an'  I  thought  'twas  you.  (She 

hooks  her  string  on  a  nail  in  the  mantel  and  twirls 
the  brick  in  front  of  the  fire) 

RUNION.  (Crosses  to  L.  of  the  table)  You're  a 
flatterin'  tongued  little  'uzzy,  Puckers.  Wat  are 
you  adoin'  with  that  brick? 

PUCKERS.     Gettin'  of  it  'ot. 

RUNION.    Umph!    Wat  for? 

PUCKERS.  I  takes  it  down  the  cellar  an'  sets  on 
it.  (Rises  with  back  to  grate)  Nex'  to  the  'Oly 
Gospil,  Mr.  Runion,  a  'ot  brick  in  a  cold  cellar  is 
the  most  comfortin'  thing  in  life.  It's  'eavenly! 

RUNION.  (Sits  L.  at  table  c.)  'Uman  ideas  of 
'eavenly  comforts  differs,  Puckers;  an'  mine  don't 
run  to  'ot  bricks. 

PUCKERS.  It  would,  if  you  lived  with  me,  down 
at  the  butt  end  of  a  zero.  Heverlastin'  punishments 
'as  no  fears  for  Phoebe.  Let  'em  turn  on  their 
wolcanoes  an'  their  flamin'  brimstones,  an'  I'll  smile 
as  sweet,  an*  say :  "  Thank  you,  Mr.  Devil.  Thank 
you  kindly,  sir." 

RUNION.    Fuckers.    I'm  'orrified. 

PUCKERS.  A  • '  you'll  be  there  to  'ear  me  say  it, 
Mr.  Runion.  (Shaking  her  head) 

RUNION.  (Sharply)  Look  a  'ere,  I've  'arf  a 
mind  to  send  you  back  down  stairs;  you  an'  your 
'ot  brick  with  you.  An'  I  will,  too,  for  a  cracked 
farthin'. 

PUCKERS.  A  farthin',  is  it !  (Sets  on  floor,  end 
of  sofa.  She  laughs)  The  coin  of  hartists  an' 
sculptures.  (Sighing  refleetively)  Ah,  Mr.  Run- 
ion,  a  hartist's  life  is  mostly  made  hup  of  rosj 
'opes and  no  wages. 

RUNION.  (Solemnly)  That's  the  truest  thinf/ 
you  ever  pronounced. 


8  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PUCKERS.  Mr.  Peyton  says  as  'ow  the  ravens 
feeds  'em;  but  I  ain't  never  seen  no  ravens  'round 
this  'ere  stoodio  buildin'.  I  uster  think  the  grocer 
man  and  the  butcher  man  was  ravens;  but  they 
ain't.  They's  wulchers! 

RUNION.  (Busy  around  L.  of  table,  nodding) 
Right,  Puckers!  But  looka  'ere,  now.  .  .  .  Wat 
do  you  know  about  artists  an'  the  ways  concernin* 
of  'em? 

PUCKERS.  (Laughing,  crosses  to  scuttle  of  coals 
R.)  Me?  Ho,  Lud!  Ain't  I  carried  'em  coals  for 
two  blessed  years?  (Picks  up  pail)  Ain't  there 
twenty-nine  of  'em  in  this  'ere  very  buildin',  an' 
one  w'at  pisened  hisself  last  week  'cause  he  couldn't 
put  up  with  hisself  no  longer?  Ain't  I  on  friendly 
terms  with  all  of  'em,  asweepin'  up  their  dirt  an' 
gettin'  a  tuppence  here  an'  a  thank  you  there,  an* 
all  the  time  alearnin'  everythink  about  their  noble 
callin'!  (Hurriedly)  That  is,  w'en  they  ain't 
drunk.  (Drops  pail)  Wen  they  does  that,  I  re 
tires  to  the  Hartic  cellar  .  .  .  and  sits  alone  with 
me  own  pure  thoughts.  (Sits  on  box  of  clay) 
Heh !  Wat  Phoebe  Puckers  don't  know  about  hart 
and  hartists  is  a  pinch  in  a  mug  o'  ale.  Say !  I'm 
studyin'  to  be  a  sculpture's  model. 

RUNION.  (Laughing  derisively — remains  L.  of 
table)  You!  Lor'  love  ye,  Puckers,  they  ain't 
amakin'  of  gravin'  himmages  for  Comic  papers. 
You're  a  nice  lookin'  thing  to  be  a  artist's  model, 
now,  ain't  you !  Oh,  Lor' !  Oh,  Lor' !  (He 
laughs) 

PUCKERS.  (Rises  from  box)  Ho,  you  can 
laugh  if  you  wants  to,  but  you  oan't  discourage 
Phoebe.  An'  posin'  ain't  so  'ard  Ven  you  knows 
'ow.  Look  at  this?  (Standing  '#p  on  the  box  of 
clay)  I  'olds  me  two  'ands  so — modest  like.  .  .  . 
The  Wenus  de  Medicine.  (On  floor)  Then  I  sets 
down  so,  an'  crosses  me  legs  an'  takes  down  me 
golden  'air  an'  'angs  sea  weeds,  in  it,  an'  plays  on  a 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  9 

'arp.  That's — er — w'at's — er  name — Ho,  yes,  a 
Nymp!  A  she-thing  w'at  sings  to  a  gent  an'  gets 
Jim  down  in  the  water  an'  drowns  'im  dead. 

RUNION.    Um — yes.    I  'ear  tell  of  'er. 

PUCKERS.  (Standing  again  on  the  box}  Then 
you  cuts  hoff  me  arms  an'  strips  me  to  the  waist, 
an'  I'm  the  Wenus  de  Mile-O. 

RUNION.     Puckers ! 

PUCKERS.  Then  I  peels  hoff  the  rest  of  me 
clothes,  looks  down,  shy,  an'  sticks  out  me  toes. 
.  .  .  Me  loidy  at  'er  barth ! 

RUNION.     Phoebe  Puckers,  I'm  ashamed  of  you. 

PUCKERS.  Ho,  that  don't  m'ake  no  difference. 
(Jumps  down)  Don't  nothin'  make  no  difference 
w'en  you'se  got  a  hartist's  temper'ment 

RUNION.    W'at ! 

PUCKERS.  (Sits  on  box  again)  Mr.  Ballington 
— the  gent  w'at  lives  hup  stairs — 'e  says  as  'ow 
I've  got  it.  Phoebe,  'e  says  "  you  can  live  on  noth 
ing  and  don't  care  three  'oops  in  Jell."  ( RUNION 
drops  a  tin  cup,  astonished)  An*  that,  'e  says,  is 
the  key-note,  Phoebe,  of  professional  success.  (Bus. 
off  stage  of  tramping  feet  coming  up  stairs.  Jump 
ing  up  from  the  box)  Ho,  Lud !  Mr.  Peyton  is  a- 
comin'!  (She  darts  to  the  fire-place,  snatches  at 
the  brick,  picks  up  her  scuttle.  Enter  WM.  PEYTON. 
He  has  on  a  great  coat  and  muffler.  PUCKERS  up 
stage  R.) 

PEYTON.  B-r-r-r!  but  it's  cold  outside.  (Rub 
bing  his  hands  and  crossing  to  the  fire)  This  Lon 
don  weather  seems  to  go  right  down  to  a  fellow's 
marrow. 

(As  RUNION  advances  with  the  decanter.) 

RUNION.    Little  whiskey,  sir? 

PEYTON.  No,  thank  you.  Make  me  a  large  cup 
of  coffee,  will  you — strong  and  hot.  Where  are 
my —  (Picking  up  slippers.  RUNION  goes  to  oil 


io  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

stove  R.  and  arranges  for  coffee,  lights  gas,  etc.) 
Ah,  here  we  are.  (Seats  himself  on  the  lounge  L. 
fire-place  and  begins  taking  off  his  shoes)  By 
Jove,  I  do  believe  my  toes  are  frozen  solid. 

PUCKERS.  (Advances  to  R.  c.)  Ho,  Lud!  Don't 
I  know  how  they  feels?  (Scuttle  on  arm,  brick  in 
scuttle) 

PEYTON.  (Looking  up)  Hullo,  Puckers!  What 
are  you  doing  up  here  ? 

PUCKERS.  Jus'  meltin'  of  mesself  hout,  sir.  You 
said  'as  'ow  I  could  come  hup  w'en  I  was  cold,  sir. 

PEYTON.  That's  right.  Whenever  the  thermome 
ter  goes  down  YOU  come  up.  It  is  a  cold  night, 
isn't  it? 

PUCKERS.  Yes,  sir.  (Advancing  and  holding  out 
the  brick)  You  can  'ave  me  brick  if  yer  wants  to. 
It'll  toast  you  hup  in  no  time  if  you  sets  on  it. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Thank  you,  no;  but  I  do 
admire  your — um — perspicacity  and — er — concen 
tration  of  purpose. 

PUCKERS.     (Blankly)     'Ow's  that,  sir? 

PEYTON.  I  say  you  seem  to  go  right  at  the  seat 
i)f  the  trouble,  so  to  speak.  (PUCKERS  moves  R.) 
By  the  way,  where  do  you  sleep  at  night? 

PUCKERS.  (Swinging  scuttle)  Cellar,  sir. 
Cubby  hole  under  the  stairs. 

PEYTON.  (Warming  a  slipper)  Hum!  Not 
very  luxurious  quarters,  I  imagine.  By  yourself? 

PUCKERS.  Me  an'  the  rats,  sir.  (As  PEYTON 
starts)  But,  ho,  Lud!  I  don't  mind  'em!  They 
ain't  never  bit  me  but  wunst.  (Moves  to  c.,  pin 
bus.) 

PEYTON.  (Aside)  The  poor  little  lonely  devil! 
(Turning)  What  do  you  cover  up  with? 

PUCKERS.  A  old  petti-coat,  sir,  an'  a  hartist's 
smokin'  jacket,  but  I  wish  the  hartist  'ad  been  a  big 
ger  man,  sir.  (RUNION  goes  up  stage  c.) 

PEYTON.  (Rising,  crosses  to  c.)  Look  here, 
this  won't  do.  Never  in  the  world!  (Pausing  in. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAR  n 

his  walk.  Takes  blanket  from  couch  up  L.)  Here, 
you  take  this  blanket  down  to  your  cubby  hole  to 
night — (Returns  c.)  roll  up  in  it — and  then  per 
haps —  (Puts  it  on  her  shoulders.  Taps  brick  she 
holds  in  left  hand) 

RUNION.  (Indignantly,  crosses  to  L.  and  down) 
Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  you'll  need  that  blanket  your 
self  on  a  night  like  this,  an' 

PEYTON.  That's  all  right.  I  have  my  over 
coat.  (Placing  the  blanket  over  PHOEBE'S  shoul 
der)  There;  run  along  now.  .  .  .  I'll  speak  to  the 
care-taker  in  the  morning,  and  see  if  we  can  find 
you  a  sleeping  place  with  more  heat  and  fewer  rats. 
Good-night. 

PUCKERS.  (In  bewildered  unbelief)  Is  you 
alendin*  of  this  'ere  helligant  blanket  to — to  me? 

PEYTON.     (Smiling)     Why  not? 

PUCKERS.  (Holding  the  door  open  with  her  foot, 
and  sobbing)  Ho,  Mr.  Peyton,  sir — it — it  makes 
a  body  cry  .  .  .  w'en  folks  is  good  to  me  ... 
like  you  is.  (Exit  sobbing) 

(PEYTON   crosses    to   fire,   facing   it,    hands   out 
stretched.  ) 

RUNION.  Will  you  'ave  your  dressin'  gown,  sir? 
(Comes  down  with  gown) 

PEYTON.  No,  thank  you.  I  shall  do  some  work 
this  evening!  (RUNION  puts  gown  up  stage,  then 
crosses  to  R.  stove)  When  you've  put  the  coffee 
on,  get  my  blouse,  will  you?  (After  pause) 

RUNION.    Yes,  sir. 

PEYTON.  Jove,  it's  fine  to  have  a  fire  like  this, 
isn't  it?  It  looks  so  good  I  could  almost  bathe  in 
it. 

RUNION.  (Fussing  with  oil  stove  R.  Solemnly) 
You'd  find  it  rather  'ot,  sir. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Yes,  I  dare  say.  (Seri 
ously)  I  tell  you  what,  Runion,  wouldn't  it  be  a 


12  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

fine  thing  if  we  could  give  a  fire  like  this  to  all  the 
poor  wretches  in  London  who  haven't  any?  (Bus. 
RUNION,  turning)  I  think  I  would  rather  warm 
them  up  .  .  .  just  once  .  .  .  than  make  the  finest 
statue  that  ever  was  carved. 

RUNION.  (In  astonishment)  All  of  'em,  sir? 
That's  rather  a  large  contrack. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Well,  not  exactly!  (Sits 
up)  We  have  a  big  enough  contract  in  taking  care 
of  ourselves.  And  by  the  way,  Runion.  .  .  If 
that  wolf  of  ours  keeps  hanging  around  the  door, 
why,  just  catch  him  by  the  tail,  will  you,  pull  him 
in,  and  we'll  eat  him. 

RUNION.  (R.  c.)     For  supper,  sir? 

PEYTON.  (L.,  smiling)  Hurry  with  that  blouse. 
(A  noisy  clatter  of  falling  objects  is  heard  outside 
R.)  Good  Lord!  What's  that? 

RUNION.  (Solemnly)  It's  Puckers,  sir.  She's 
gone  down  stairs. 

PEYTON.  (Impatiently)  Well,  run  down — 
quick — and  see  if  the  child  is  hurt. 

RUNION.  (Grinning)  Oh,  she  ain't  'urt,  sir. 
She's  only  'appy.  She  allers  goes  down  like  that 
w'en  she's  'appy.  (Goes  to  door  R.,  opens  it,  and 
song  is  heard.  PUCKERS  sings  snatch  of  "  'Art  was 
true  to  Poll.")  I  can  'ear  'er  asingin'  of  a  ribald 
song,  sir.  (Closes  door  and  gets  blouse  from  up 
L.  Bus.  of  getting  into  blouse) 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  What  a  wonderful  child 
she  is.  She  must  have  been  born  on  some  glorious 
holiday  like  the  fourth  of  July.  Eh,  Runion? 

RUNION.    Yes,  sir,  very  likely,  sir. 

PEYTON.  Oh!  You  don't  understand  that  4th 
of  July  business,  do  you? 

RUNION.    Can't  say  as  I  do,  sir. 

PEYTON.  (Taking  cloth  from  statue)  Well, 
some  day,  when  I  have  plenty  of  time,  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  it.  (He  steps  from  the  table,  folds  the 
wet  cloth,  then  walks  around  the  statue  regarding 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  13 

it  critically.  The  figure  respresents  a  life-sized 
woman  in  very  scanty  draperies)  Isn't  she  a 
bouncer,  Runion? 

RUNION.  (Down  R.)  Yes,  sir;  I  think  she 
might  be  called — um — a  bouncer,  sir,  an'  no  mis 
take. 

PEYTON.  Fine  girl,  Runion!  Fine  girl!  What 
do  you  think  of  her — eh? 

RUNION.  (Hesitating)  I'd — er — I'd  rawther 
not  say,  sir. 

PEYTON.  Come,  come,  man,  don't  be  afraid! 
Honestly  now,  honestly. 

RUNION.  Beggin'  your  pardon  before,  I  should 
say  'er  attitood  is — er — is  a  bit  brazen,  sir. 

PEYTON.  Good!  The  lady's  name  was  Circe, 
and  she  possessed — in  a  marked  degree — the  rakish 
attribute  you  call  to  mind.  (To  R.  of  statue,  begins 
work  ) 

( RUNION  crosses  to  R.,  placing  the  coffee  pot  be 
fore  the  fire.) 

RUNION.  'Ere's  a  box  w'at  come  for  you  this 
evenin'.  (Starts  to  pick  it  up) 

PEYTON.  Oh,  that!  Yes — box  of  clay.  Well, 
leave  it  where  it  is.  We'll  open  it  to-morrow.  Any 
letters? 

RUNION.     Only  bills,  sir. 

PEYTON.  (Busy  with  his  work)  Bills,  eh? 
They  do  have  a  way  of  coming,  don't  they?  By 
the  way,  how  much  wages  do  I  owe  you  now  ? 

RUNION.  Three  months  and  eleven  days,  sir; 
arskin'  your  pardon  for  mentionin'  the  exac'  fig- 
gers,  sir 

PEYTON.  (Working)  That's  all  right.  I  ad 
mire  your  accuracy.  (After  pause)  I  think  I  got 
an  order  to-day  ....  and  if  it  turns  out  as  I 
hope  you  will  lose  nothing  by  waiting  so  long  and 
patiently. 


14  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

RUNION.  Thank  you,  sir.  (Turns  toward  R. 
again) 

PEYTON.    Any  callers? 

RUNION.  One,  sir.  She  was  'ere  three  times, 
sir. 

PEYTON.  (Looking  up  from  work)  Well,  why 
didn't  you  tell  me  before? 

RUNION.  Arskin'  your  pardon,  sir,  I  didn't  wish 
to  trouble  you.  It  was  only  Mrs.  Arrington,  sir. 

PEYTON.  (Carelessly.  Resuming  work)  Oh, 
what  did  she  want? 

RUNION.  To  see  you,  sir;  but  I  thinks  as  'ow 
she  was  beggin',  so  I  didn't  'old  no  encouragements, 
sir. 

PEYTON.  Begging,  eh?  I  thought  she'd  come  to 
it  sooner  or  later.  .  .  It's  the  same  old  story,  Run- 
ion,  the  same  old  story.  (Making  several  delicate 
touches,  then  stepping  back  to  note  the  effect) 
Do  you  know  that  woman  used  to  be  one  of  the 
handsomest  models  in  London.  And  a  good 
woman,  too — save  the  mark — but  a  fool.  She  mar 
ried  a  brute  who  spent  her  savings,  thrashed  her 
periodically,  drank  himself  to  death,  and  left  her 
with  nothing  in  God's  world  but  a  baby  .  .  .  and 
the  memory  of  a  life's  blunder.  What's  the  result? 
(Shrugging)  Health  gone — beauty  and  figure  with 
it — no  work.  (After  working  a  moment  in  silence) 
What  made  you  think  she  was  begging? 

RUNION.  She  awsked  me  for  some  bread  for 
*er  baby,  sir. 

PEYTON.  (Dropping  his  wooden  tool  with  an  ex 
clamation  of  pain  and  wheeling  on  RUNION) 
What!  And  you  gave  her  no  encouragement.  .  . 
Runion,  I'm  ashamed  of  you.  (Stripping  off  his 
blouse  and  tossing  it  at  RUNION  who  puts  it  on 
table  R.)  Here — get  my  overcoat — hurry!  What 
address  did  she  give?  (He  kicks  off  his  slippers 
and  begins  putting  on  his  shoes,  tugging  at  the  lace 
strings  savagely  at  fire-place  L.) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  15 

RUNION.  I — I  didn't  awsk  for  'er  address,  sir- 
but 

PEYTON.  Oh,  of  course  not!  Get  my  hat!  Get 
my  hat! 

RUNION.  (Getting  the  hat,  putting  it  on  table  c., 
then  holding  the  overcoat)  Won't — er — won't  you 
'ave  your  coffee,  sir,  before  you  starts?  It 

PEYTON.  (Shortly)  No!  You  can  drink  that 
yourself. 

RUNION.  Awskin'  your  pardon,  sir,  she  said 
as  'ow  she  was  acomin'  back,  sir,  if — if  she  could. 

PEYTON.  (Looking  up  from  fastening  shoes) 
What  d'ye  mean  by  that? 

RUNION.  (Meekly)  Well  sir,  she  was  a-lookin' 
rawther  ill  and — and  broke-uppish,  sir,  and 

PEYTON.  (Angrily)  Confound  you,  Runion, 
I've  tried  to  be  patient  with  you  but  I  swear  I 
feel  like  kicking  you  down  stairs! 

RUNION.  (L.  by  table,  faltering)  Yes,  sir, 
thank  you,  sir !  I — I  gave  'er  the  bread,  sir,  an 

PEYTON.  Oh,  you  did,  did  you?  Well,  I'm 
going  out  to  find  her.  (Starts  across  to  R.  door. 
Turning  and  speaking  with  ironical  contempt) 
Now,  you  sit  by  the  nice  warm  fire,  Runion,  and 
make  yourself  comfortable,  and  happy.  The  de 
canter  is  over  there  on  the  table  and — and  for 
mercy's  sake,  don't — catch — cold!  (He  pulls  his 
hat  down  firmly  on  his  head  and  starts  for  the  door, 
when  a  TIMID  KNOCK  is  heard.  RUNION 
starts  forward,  but  PEYTON  checks  him,  still  speak 
ing  ironically)  Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself,  I  beg 
you.  (Sharply.  Throws  blouse  at  RUNION,  which 
he  picks  up  from  table  R.)  Get  out.  You  fool, 
get  out.  ( RUNION  picks  up  blouse  from  the  floor 
and  goes  up  centre.  PEYTON  opens  the  door  to  dis 
cover  MRS.  ARRINGTON  leaning  weakly  against  the 
frame.  She  is  thinly  clad,  ghastly  pale,  and  walk* 
unsteadily  as  she  comes  forward,  breathing  labori 
ously)  Why,  Mrs.  Arrington!  I  was  just  going 


1 6  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

out  to  look  for  you.  (MRS.  ARRINGTON  lifts  her 
head  in  an  effort  to  speak,  staggers  and  falls  for 
ward  into  PEYTON'S  arms)  Here,  Runion — push 
that  sofa  closer  to  the  fire.  (Placing  her  down- 
gently)  The  cushion  for  her  head!  There!  Now 
get  the  whiskey.  (Taking  a  glass  o/  spirits  from 
RUNION,  raising  her  head  and  placing  it  to  her 
lips)  Take  a  good  swallow  of  this.  Don't  be 
afraid.  It  won't  hurt  you.  Please! 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Weakly)  Thank  you — 
(She  drinks  a  small  quantity) 

PEYTON.  You'll  be  all  right  in  a  little  while. 
(Bus.)  There — I  know  all  about  it.  Don't  try  to 
talk.  (Turning)  Now,  Runion,  get  something 
hot — and  hurry.  (Once  more  placing  the  glass  to 
MRS.  ARRINGTON'S  lips)  Once  more — please. 
(Gently)  You  should  have  sent  me  word.  You 
know  that  I  would  have  been  only  too  glad  to  help 
you,  even  though  it  was  a  mite. 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  Yes,  yes,  I  know ;  but  I  was 
ashamed  to  ask  so  often.  You — you've  been  too 
good  to  me  already.  Of  all  my  old  friends,  you 
have  been  the  most  generous —  (Catching  PEY 
TON'S  hand  as  he  raises  it  in  a  gesture  of  dissent) 
No,  don't  deny  it.  Let  me  keep  the  memory  to  the 
last.  You  tried  to  make  me  feel  that  it  was  not  a 
gift — not  charity — but  I  know  .  .  .  and  may  God 
give  it  back  to  you  tenfold,  Mr.  Peyton. 

PEYTON.    We  won't  speak  of  that.     (Turns  R.) 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Intensely)  But  I  must  .  .  . 
I  must  ask  the  greatest  charity  of  all. 

PEYTON.  There,  now,  you  are  nervous  and  ex 
cited.  Come,  we'll  have  something  to  eat  and  then 
talk  it  over  quietly.  (Turning)  How  are  you 
getting  on,  Runion? 

RUNION.     (At  the  oil  stove)     In  a  minute,  sir. 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Half  pleading,  half  impa 
tient)  I  must  speak  with  you — alone — Send  your 
man  away!  Please! 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  17 

PEYTON.  (Crossing  to  RUNION)  Step  out  and 
get  a  doctor  as  soon  as  you  can ! 

RUNION.  Very  good,  sir.  (Takes  hat  and  coat 
from  peg  above  door  and  hurries  out  at  R.) 

PEYTON.  (Returning  to  sofa)  Now,  Mrs.  Ar- 
rington,  tell  me  what  is  troubling  you.  (Sits  In 
chair  which  he  brings  from  L.  of  table)  I  will  help 
you  if  I  can. 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
promising —  (After  a  pause,  in  a  calmer  tone) 
I've  told  you  I  was  ill — but  it's  worse — I'm  dying. 
(As  PEYTON  starts,  then  turns  with  a  reassuring 
smile ) 

PEYTON.  Lie  down.  I  beg  of  you.  (Bus.  Puts 
chair  up  stage)  I've  sent  Runion  for  a  doctor. 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Checking  him)  No.  .  ,  It's 
gone  too  far  for  that.  I've  reached  the  end. 
(Looking  into  his  eyes)  I'm  not  afraid  for  myself 
— but  my  baby — my  baby 

PEYTON.  (After  pause)  And  you  come  to  me? 
To  ask — me  to 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  No,  not  to  ask.  To  beg — to 
implore — you — take  my  baby  when  I  have  gone — • 
(PEYTON  starts)  the  one  shaft  of  God's  sunlight 
that  has  pierced  the  hell  of  my  misfortune.  My 
baby — my  little  one — for  whom  I  have  fought  de 
spair — for  whom  I  have  given  life  itself  .  .  .  and 
given  it  in  vain!  (Sinks  back  on  sofa) 

PEYTON.  There,  there,  you  are  not  going  to 
die.  Your  baby  needs  you  and  you've  got  to  live 
for  it ! 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Passionately.  Sitting  up 
again)  ^  Oh,  how  can  I  make  you  understand? 
(Reaching  for  his  hand,  rises  slowly  facing  him) 
But,  you'll  take  my  little  one  when  I  can  no  longer 
care  for  her — ?  Yes — yes — For  the  love  of  ^Tjur 
own  mother — for  the  love  of  the  woman  who  will 
some  day  be  your  wife — promise!  Promise! 
(Holding  his  hand  in  both  of  hers) 


iS  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PEYTON.  (Restlessly)  There,  there,  my  friend. 
It's  easy  enough  to  make  a  promise  but  I  won't  de 
ceive  you.  (Removes  hand)  What  you  ask  is  im 
possible.  (MRS.  ARRINGTON  cries  out,  buries  her 
face  in  her  hands,  falls  face  downward  in  the  pil 
lows,  but  is  checked  by  a  fit  of  coughing)  You  ask 
me  to  take  your  baby.  (Crosses  to  c.)  What  under 
heaven  should  I  do  with  it?  (Turns)  I'm  a 
young  fellow — poor  as  a  church  mouse — struggling 
to  make  both  ends  meet.  And  they»</ow'f  sometimes. 
Besides,  this  is  no  place  to  bring  up  a  child.  (Re 
turning  to  her)  How  old  is  it? 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Hopefully  sits  up)  Six — 
but  bright — intelligent 

PEYTON.  (Interrupting)  There,  you  see?  Six 
years!  A  mere  tot — dependent  upon  someone 
every  minute  of  the  day  or  night.  I  don't  mean  to 
be  selfish,  but — but — Good  Lord ! — I  don't  know  an 
earthly  thing  about  babies, — not  a  thing!  (Pause) 
Is  it  a  boy  or  a  girl  ? 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  A  girl.  Her  name  is  Claudia, 
and — (Again  she  is  checked  by  a  fit  of  coughing) 

PEYTON.  (Striding  rapidly  and  rubbing  his 

hands  nervously)  A  girl!  ....  H'u'm 

That's  bad.  .  .  .  (Pausing  and  turning) 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Then  hopefully)  But  she 
would  give  you  little  trouble.  (Sits  end  of  sofa) 

PEYTON.  But,  have  you  no  relatives — yours  or 
your  husbands? 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Shaking  her  head  slowly 
and  sadly)  There  is  no  one  in  the  whole  world  to 
whom  I  can  turn.  But  with  you  I  could  trust  her. 
You  are  good — generous — a  man!  (Raising  her 
eyes  to  him)  I  have  given  all  for  her — all  "but 
honor.  .  .  . 

PEYTON.  (L.  c.)  Oh!  It  makes  me  feel  like  a 
brute  to  refuse  you;  but  think!  I'm  engaged  to 
be  married — (Turning  appealingly)  You  ^can  see 
my  position,  Mrs.  Arrington,  how  utterly  impos — 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  19 

(He  looks  into  her  suffering  face  and  pauses 
abruptly) 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  You  may  think  differently 
when  you  see  her.  I  left  her  below  with  the  care 
taker,  because  I  did  not  wish  her  to  hear — to  know. 
(Facing  him,  frightened,  trembling)  Only  let  me 
bring  her  to  you?  (Gets  to  her  feet,  starts  across 
to  c.  PEYTON  is  silent.  MRS.  ARRINGTON  watches 
him  a  moment  in  hope  and  fear,  then  turns  weakly 
toward  the  door,  but  PEYTON  takes  her  arm,  striv 
ing  to  restrain  her  gently) 

PEYTON.  (Stops  her  gently — puts  arms  around 
her  to  support  her)  No,  my  friend.  It  wouldn't 
do  any  good.  We  must  think  up  some  other  plan 
— some  institute  in  which 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Wrenching  away  from  him, 
crosses  to  R.)  Stop!  Stop! — in  pity's  name! 

PEYTON.    But  listen 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  I  feared  it!  The  work-house 
for  my  baby — and  then — Oh,  God,  the  streets  of 
London!  The  shame — the  horror —  (Sinks  on 
bench  in  front  of  model  with  face  buried  in  arms 
on  table) 

PEYTON.  (Striving  to  calm  her)  Listen  at 
least  to  reason. 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  Reason!  No!  I  must  find 
some  place.  (Rises  abruptly;  she  laughs  bitterly) 
Don't  stop  me  now.  (As  she  starts  for  door,  PEY 
TON  gently,  with  arms  around  her,  leads  her  back 
to  sofa  where  she  sinks) 

PEYTON.  I'm  not  the  brute  you  think  me — only 
— it's  impossible — try  to  control  yourself — the 
doctor  will  be  here  presently  and  then 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  (Slips  off  sofa  to  her  knees 
with  arms  outstretched)  Oh,  sir,  promise  me — in 
Christ's  name,  promise  that  you'll  not  desert  her — 
that  you  will  love  her  ...  as  ...  your  own.  (She 
stretches  out  her  arms  to  him  in  a  mute  but  pitiful 
appeal  PEYTON  stands  irresolute,  while  a  light  of 


20  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

understanding  grows  slowly  upon  his  features.  His 
hands  are  clenched.  He  looks  away  into  nothing 
ness,  then  back  at  MRS.  ARRINGTON) 

PEYTON.  (Lifting  his  head)  I  promise  .... 

on  my  honor (Puts  out  hands  and  gently 

raises  her  to  her  feet) 

MRS.  ARRINGTON.  Oh,  God  bless  you, — God 
bless  you.  (She  collapses  in  his  arms  and  catching 
her  he  quickly  lays  her  on  sofa,  head  on  pillows. 
He  snatches  glass  of  whiskey  on  table  and  starts  to 
give  her  some.  As  he  puts  glass  to  her  lips  he 
glances  at  her  eyes,  then  slowly  drops  glass  on 
floor,  while  the  lights  go  slowly  out) 

END  OF   SCENE  FIRST. 

(Intermezzo  between  scenes — short  wait.) 

SCENE  II : — One  hour  later. 

Arrangement  of  the  stage  the  same  as  in  Scene 
First.  The  curtain  being  drawn  to  obviate 
the  necessity  of  the  death  of  MRS.  ARRINGTON 
on  the  stage  and  her  removal  from  the  room. 

DISCOVERED: — RUNION,  sweeping  up  glass  from 
floor.  A  KNOCK  is  heard  at  door  at  right. 
BALLINGTON  enters  as  RUNION  rises* 

BALLING.  (Advances  to  c.)  Hello,  Runion. 
Peyton  back  yet? 

RUNION.  (Rises,  as  BALLINGTON  enters)  No, 
sir ;  not  yet,  sir. 

BALLING.  H'u'm !  Well-— we'll  see  him  later.  I 
suppose  he's  having  no  end  of  red  tape  with  the 
coroner  and — and  that  sort  of  thing.  Deuced  un 
fortunate.!  Dead?  They  took  her  away?^  (RuN- 
ION  nods)  A  gentlewoman  to  her  fingertips — best 
model  I  ever  had — (Sighing  as  he  crosses  R.)  Oh, 
well!  It's  all  on  the  canvas,  my  boy,  but  she 
might  have  a  better  hanging.  (Crosses  to  RUN- 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  21 

ION.  Speaking  bashfully}  Wish  you'd  say  to  Pey 
ton  that — er — that  I'd  take  it  as  a  favor  if  he'd  call 
on  me  in  any  way  to — he'll  understand. 

RUNION.  (#3;  table  c.)  Yes,  sir.  Very  good, 
sir. 

BALLING.  (R.  from  doorway)  And  by  the  way, 
Runion — that  little  girl  of  Mrs.  Arrington's,  she's 
down  stairs  with  the  care-taker.  Bright  little 
monkey!  Think  I'd  better  send  her  up?  (Starts 
to  exit.  RUNION  hesitates) 

RUNION.  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  wouldn't  do 
that.  She  doesn't  know  about  her  mother  as  yet. 
You'd  better  wait  till  Mr.  Peyton  gets  back,  sir. 

BALLING.  Um — yes,  I  dare  say  you  are  right 
(Turning  to  RUNION)  Tell  Billy  we  are  up  stairs 
if  he  needs  us  for  anything,  won't  you.  (He  passes 
out  R.) 

( RUNION  stands  same  attitude  that  BALLINGTON 
left  him  in.) 

RUNION.  Generous  chaps  these  artist  gentlemen. 
It's  a  pity  their  pocketbooks  ain't  as  big  as  their 
hearts. 

(After  a  moment  or  two  PEYTON  enters  from  R. 
and  RUNION  crosses,  helping  him  off  with  his 
overcoat. ) 

RUNION.  (Removes  PEYTON'S  coat  at  c.,  hangs 
it  up  L.)  Did  you  get  it  over,  sir? 

PEYTON.  Yes;  most  of  it.  She  will  be  buried 
quietly  to-morrow. 

RUNION.  You've  done  a  great  deal  in  an  hour, 
sir. 

PEYTON.  (Crossing  to  the  fire)  I  wish  we 
weren't  so  confoundedly  poor.  I'd  like  to  see  it 
done  better 

RUNION.     Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  Mr.  Ballington 


22  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

was  'ere  jus*  now — quite  sober,  sir.     He  says — 

as  'ow — you  might  call  on  'im  in  any  way 

PEYTON.  (Impatiently)  Yes,  yes,  thank  you. 
RUNION.  Yes,  sir,  thank  you,  sir.  (Exits  at  R.) 
PEYTON.  (Looking  into  fire)  Poor  woman! 
.  .  .  Poor  woman!  .  .  .  But  what  have  I  prom 
ised  her.  .  .  .  What?  What  in  the  name  of  com 
mon  sense  .  .  .  shall  I  do  with  the  little  one  ?  .  .  .  . 
I  was  a  fool  to  promise.  .  .  .  (Crosses  to  c.)  And 
yet — It  made  the  mother's  death  less  hard.  (Sits 
on  bench  in  front  of  table  c.)  ....  Though  hard 
enough,  God  knows.  (Face  in  hands.  He  lapses 
into  silence) 

(Presently  the  door  at  right  opens  quietly  and 
CLAUDIA  enters.  She  wears  a  short  skirt, 
barely  reaching  her  knees,  and  a  velvet  cloak, 
worn  and  threadbare.  For  a  moment  she  looks 
curiously  about  her,  then  tiptoes  across  the 
room,  and  stands  gazing  at  PEYTON.  She  waits 
-for  him  to  look  up,  but  he  does  not  see  her. ) 

CLAUDIA.  (R.  c.)    I  want  my  mamma! 

PEYTON.  (Springing  up,  down  c.)  Why — why, 
good  gracious  me!  I  didn't  know 

CLAUDIA.    Don't  be  afraid.    I  won't  hurt  you. 

PEYTON.  (With  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  look 
ing  down  at  her  in  amused  surprise)  Well — I'll  be 
— um — who  are  you? 

CLAUDIA.     Claudia. 

PEYTON.  (Starting)  Why,  of  course.  I  might 
have  known.  How  stupid  of  me. 

CLAUDIA.    I  got  a  lot  more  names,  though. 

PEYTON.     Have  you,  dearie?     What  are  they? 

CLAUDIA.  Piggy  and  Granny — and  Brat.  But  I 
don't  like  that  one. 

PEYTON.  Well,  I  shouldn't  think  you  would! 
Who  calls  you  such — er — disrespectful  names? 
(Sits  on  box  facing  her) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAR  23 

CLAUDIA.    The  boys. 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Oh,  indeed!  Well,  we 
won't  have  them  doing  that ! 

CLAUDIA.  (Pointing  at  statue)  They  make  dol 
lies — just  like  yours. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Oho!  I  see!  You  mean 
the  professional  boys.  Your  mamma  takes  you 
with  her  to  her  sittings — is  that  it? 

CLAUDIA.  (Still  R.  c.  After  a  thoughtful  pause, 
nodding)  Um'hum!  but  she  don't  go  any  more. 
She  stays  at  home  .  .  .  and  coughs. 

PEYTON.  (Tenderly)  Yes,  dear,  I  know. 
(Smiling)  But,  when  she  used  to  take  you  I  sup 
pose  you  learned  all  about  mud  dollies,  didn't  you? 

CLAUDIA.  Oh,  yes.  (Pointing  to  statue,  regard 
ing  it  solemnly)  I  like  that  one.  She's — she's  a 
beautiful  dolly. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Well,  upon  my  word! 
(With  a  bow)  Thank  you,  Granny — thank  you. 
Well,  you  do  know  something  of  art,  don't  you? 

CLAUDIA.  (Soberly)  Where's  her  clothes? 
{Looking  around)  But  you've  got  a  good  fire 
....  to  keep  her  warm. 

PEYTON.  Um  ....  Yes.  That's  it,  exactly. 
(Mounting  the  platform  from  L.  and  adjusting  the 
cloth)  Let's  put  a  cloak  on  her  and — and  change 
the  subject.  (With  a  final  touch)  There!  That 
ought  to  make  her  snug  and  comfortable. 

CLAUDIA.    What's  her  name? 

PEYTON.  (Still  standing  on  the  platform — stand 
between  chair  and  table)  Her  name  is  Circe.  I'll 
%ell  you  her  story  some  day ! 

CLAUDIA.    Can  you  tell  stories? 

PEYTON.  Oh,  lots  of  'em !  (He  steps  down  from 
the  platform) 

CLAUDIA.  (With  a  catch  in  her  breath)  I — I 
.wish  my  mamma  had  bringed  me  before.  What's 
your  name? 

PEYTON.    (Solemnly)    William  Musgrave  Baker- 


24  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

ville  Peyton — late  of  America — land  of  Dixie — at 
your  service. 

CLAUDIA.  Goodness !  Haven't  you  got  a  shorter 
one? 

PEYTON.  Ha!  That's  a  question  (Steps  down) 
and  we'll  have  to  talk  it  over — you  and  I — and  pick 
out  the  one  that  suits  you  best.  (Picks  her  up  and 
stands  her  on  bench  in  front  of  table  c.)  Now, 
suppose  I  take  off  your  hat  and  coat  and  make  you 
more  comfortable.  (Takes  things  off)  There, 
that's  better.  (Sits  her  on  bench.  She  starts  to 
ask  about  her  mother,  he  stops  her  and  gets  an  apple 
from  mantel  which  he  gives  her) 

CLAUDIA.     (After  taking  the  apple)     I  like  you. 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Do  you?  I'm  glad  of  that. 
(She  bites  apple)  And  I  like  you — well — this 
much.  (He  gives  her  a  hug,  she  drops  apple,  he 
picks  it  up  for  her  and  keeps  his  arm  about  her) 

CLAUDIA.  (Laughing)  That's  what  mamma 
does.  (Looking  up  at  him  soberly)  Where  is 
mamma? 

PEYTON.  (Takes  her  hand  in  his  and  is  silent 
for  a  moment)  Piggy  dear,  that's  another  thing  I 
'want  to  talk  to  you  about,  and  ask  you  to  help  me. 
To  help  me  and  to  help  mamma.  You'd  like  that, 
wouldn't  you?  (As  CLAUDIA  nods)  Good!  You 
know  how  ill  she's  been — how  she  coughs  at  night 
• — and  how  it  hurts  her?  (CLAUDIA  nods,  bites  into 
apple  again)  Well  ...  we  want  her  to  go  away 
...  to  a  place  where  she  won't  feel  the  hurt  any 
more  .  .  where  her  poor,  tired  hands  can  rest, 
Piggy,  and  never  work  again. 

CLAUDIA.    Will — will  she  take  me  with  her? 

PEYTON.  No,  dear,  not  just  yet,  and  I'll  tell  you 
why.  Little  girls  have  to  be  washed  and  dressed 
and — and  have  a  lot  of  things  done  for  'em.  Then 
there  are  pins  and  combs  and  shoe-strings  and — • 
Good  gracious  me,  Piggy !  get  right  down  to  it, 
there  must  be  a  million  of  'em. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  25 

CLAUDIA.    And  the  Catechism,  too? 

PEYTON.  Catechism!  Why —  Oh,  yes,  yes — of 
course!  We'll  go  for  the  catechism  like — like 
blazes. 

CLAUDIA.  Like  blazes!  (Laughing)  That's  a 
funny  way — how  do  you  do  it? 

PEYTON.  Um — well,  I  don't  know  exactly,  right 
at  the — er — the  jump,  but  we'll  do  it  somehow. 
But  now  we  want  your  mamma  to  rest  and 
sleep • 

CLAUDIA.    Is  she  asleep  now? 

PEYTON.  (Pressing  her  close  to  him)  Yes, 
Piggy  •  •  •  she's  asleep.  (After  a  short  pause} 
And  if  we  want  her  to  rest  and  be  happy,  you  must 
stay  here  with  me.  Just  think,  Claudia,  I  haven't 
any  little  girl.  I'm  here  all  by  myself,  with  only 
Runion.  (CLAUDIA  looks  up  inquiringly)  He's  my 
servant,  dear.  (Gently)  And  it's  frightfully  lone 
some.  I  need  a  little  girl  like  you — to  take  care  of 
me  and  help  me  make  my  big  mud  dollies.  You'd 
like  that,  wouldn't  you? 

CLAUDIA.  (After  thoughtful  pause)  Rather. 
Would — would  that  make  you  be  my  Daddy? 

PEYTON.  H'u'm!  .  .  In  a  way — yes.  You — er 
— you  might  call  me  that — if  you  choose. 

CLAUDIA.  And  will  you  let  me  rriake  mud  dollies, 
too? 

PEYTON.    A  thousand  of  'em,  if  you  like. 

CLAUDIA.  Oh,  jolly, — jolly! — jolly!  (Claps 
hands)  And  I  can  tell  you  when  it's  supper  time? 

PEYTON.    Yes.    Any  old  time  is  supper  time. 

CLAUDIA.    I'm — I'm  hungry  now. 

PEYTON.  (Striking  his  palm  with  his  fist.  Down 
c.,  as  he  speaks)  Lord!  What  a  dunderhead  I 
am !  My  dear,  we'll  have  that  supper  in  just  three 
shakes  of  a  sheep's  tail.  (Crosses  to  table  R.) 

CLAUDIA.  Can  I  help,  Daddy?  (Puts  apple  down 
on  table  c.) 

PEYTON.     (Aside)     Daddy!     (Turning)     Why, 


26  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

of  course  you  may,  my  dear.  Do  you  see  that  pile 
of  books  over  there — (Points  up  R.)  Put  three  of 
'em  on  the  floor  by  that  box.  Now  sit  down  on  'em ! 
That's  your  chair  and  table.  (CLAUDIA  seats  her 
self  beside  the  box  of  clay,  while  PEYTON  crosses 
and  tears  a  sketch  from  his  easel,  laying  it  on  the 
box)  That's  your  table  cloth.  How's  that? 
(CLAUDIA,  clapping  her  hands)  Here's  a  plate — a 
fat  little  cup — a  great  big  carvum  knife.  Know  the 
song  about  that  knife?  (Waves  knife  in  the  air 
and  sings.  On  one  knee  very  close  to  her) 

Three  blind  mice! 
See  how  they  run! 

(CLAUDIA  sings  with  him.) 
They  all  ran  after  the  farmer's  wife; 
She  cut  off  their  tails  with  a  carvum  knife ; 
Did  you  ever  see  such  a  sight  in  your  life — 
As  three  blind  mice? 

PEYTON.    Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!    How's  that,  Piggy? 

CLAUDIA.     It's — it's — it's  just  rippinM 

PEYTON.  Always  did  like  that  song.  (Turning 
to  cooking)  There!  (Apologetically)  You  see, 
my  dear,  for  rush  orders  such  as  yours,  the  bill  of 
fare  is  like  this : 

Bread  and  jam  and  milk, 
And  milk  and  jam  and  bread, 
And  jam  and  bread  and  milk. 

(Checking  off  on  his  fingers.  Seats  himself  on  the 
bench  opposite  her,  and  hugging  his  knees)  Now, 
little  one,  go  for  it!  (CLAUDIA  hesitates)  Well — ? 

CLAUDIA.  It — it  ain't  polite  to  eat  with — with 
just  a  knife. 

PEYTON.  (Springing  up)  I  beg  your  pardon. 
Here's  the  family  spoon?  (Crossing  with  large 
spoon)  How's  that? 

CLAUDIA.  ( Turning  the  spoon  over  in  her  hand) 
You  haven't  got  a  pusher,  have  you? 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  27 

PEYTON.    A  what? 

CLAUDIA.    A  pusher. 

PEYTON.  A  pusher?  (Looks  around  helplessly) 
Well — er — well,  no,  Piggy,  I — I  really  don't  believe 
I  have.  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  think  I'll  do  your  head 
while  you  are  having  your  supper.  (Crossing  and 
returning  with  a  small  lump  of  clay  which  he  be 
gins  kneading  with  his  hands)  I  wouldn't  be  a  bit 
surprised  if  the  sand-man  came  to  see  us  soon. 

CLAUDIA.    The  sand-man? 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  He's  a  nice  old  fellow  who 
puts  things  in  little  girls'  eyes  and  makes  'em  sleepy, 
you  know.  By  the  way,  Claudia,  what  do  you  sleep 
in  at  night? 

CLAUDIA.     (Staring  at  him)    I — I  sleep  in  a  bed. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Yes — of  course,  of 
course!  But  what  I  mean  is — er — don't  have — um 
— some  sort  of  a  little  night-shirt  or  something? 

CLAUDIA.  (Thoughtfully)  I — I  used  to,  but — 
but  it  wored  out. 

PEYTON.  Oh,  I  see.  That's  bad!  Well,  we'll 
have  to  fix  you  up  somehow.  (PUCKERS  enters 
with  scuttle;  slams  door)  You  must  not  burst  in 
like  that  I  This  isn't  Balaklava  or  the  Vale  of  the 
Thousand  Bricks! 

PUCKERS.  (Holding  up  her  brick,  R.)  I  come  to 
fix  the  fire,  sir. 

PEYTON.  (R.  c.)  Well,  go  ahead  and  fix  it  and 
try  to  be  a  little  more  maidenly  and  a  little  less  hip- 
popotamussy.  Am  I  clear? 

CLAUDIA.  You'll  wake  my  mamma  up  if  you 
make  so  much  noise. 

PUCKERS.  'Ello !  ( Wheeling  sharply,  advancing 
and  laughing)  Lorsy  me!  You  is  so  little  I  ain't 
even  seen  yer.  (Turning  to  PEYTON)  Yours? 

PEYTON.  (Up  R.  c.,  then  crosses  to  fire-place  L.) 
Yes,  she's  mine. 

PUCKERS,  (c.,  hands  on  knee;  to  CLAUDIA) 
Wotcher  name? 


28  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PEYTON.  (Pointing  a  muddy  finger  at  her}  Her 
name  is  Miss  Claudia.  Miss  Claudia.  Understand? 
(To  RUNION,  ivho  enters  from  door  R.  ;  hangs  up 
hat,  etc.)  And  you,  too,  Runion.  This  is  my  ward 
— Miss  Claudia — she  has  come  to  take  care  of  us. 

RUNION.  (Coming  dozvn  R.,  checking  his  wonder 
and  answering  promptly)  Very  good,  sir. 

CLAUDIA.  (PUCKERS  crosses  to  fire-place  L., 
hangs  up  brick  as  before.  Nodding  her  head)  I'm 
going  to  stay  till  my  mamma  comes  back. 

RUNION.  (Starting)  Lor',  Miss — your 
mamma • 

PEYTON.     Steady,  steady,  Runion! 

RUNION.  (Crossing  to  CLAUDIA)  — will — er — • 
will  be  'appy  to  'ave  you  here,  Miss;  I  'opes  you'll 
be  'appy  too,  Miss. 

PEYTON.  Thank  you,  Runion.  Just  run  down 
stairs,  will  you,  and  ask  the  care-taker  if  she  will 
lend  you  a  little — er — night-shirt. 

RUNION.  Wot!  For  me,  sir?  (As  PEYTON 
points  to  CLAUDIA)  O — h!  (Exit) 

PEYTON.  (Sits  L.  of  table,  smiling;  to  CLAUDIA) 
Now,  Piggy,  sit  still  a  moment,  will  you — just  as 
you  are.  (Modeling)  Chin  up!  Ah,  that's  it! 
Now  smile ! 

PUCKERS.  (L.,  looking  over  his  shoulder) 
Dearie  me !  You'se  a-makin'  of  'er  burst,  ain't  yer? 
(As  PEYTON  nods)  Say!  I  wish't  you'd  do  me 
sometime.  /  can  repose  for  a  statue  easy. 

PEYTON.  Is  that  so?  (Smiling)  Well,  when  I 
want  to  make  an  imp  I'll  send  for  you. 

PUCKERS.  (Moves  L.  Thoughtfully)  Did  you 
say  ...  a  imp  ...  or  a  Nymp? 

PEYTON.  (Turning)  I  said  an  imp  ...  a 
smutty-faced  little  imp! 

PUCKERS.  Me?  Ho,  Lud,  yes!  7  can  repose 
for  anythink — from  the  weepin'  Handrumiky  right 
smack  down  to  Hapollo. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  29 

PEYTON.  Can  you,  now?  Well,  as  it  happens 
Apollo  wasn't  a  girl. 

PUCKERS.  Wasn't  she,  now? — O-h!  (She  turns 
up  c.) 

PEYTON.  (Crosses  to  L.  c.  and  sits  on  bench 
front  of  table)  My!  What  dirty  hands!  Here, 
Runion ;  bring  me  a  basin  of  water.  Puckers,  get  a 
towel  and  some  soap. 

(As  he  lifts  CLAUDIA  into  his  lap,  RUNION  crosses 
and  stands  on  one  R.  side  of  him  with  the  basin 
of  water,  with  PUCKERS  on  the  L.,  holding  the 
towel  and  soap.) 

PEYTON.  First  we'll  take  this  grimy  little  fist. 
(He  washes  it,  and  drys  it  on  a  corner  of  the 
towel) 

PUCKERS.  H'm !  She  ain't  dirty  much.  Look  at 
me. 

PEYTON.  Um — yes.  What  you  need,  Puckers, 
is  a  large  piece  of  good  coarse  sand-paper  and  a 
short  visit  to  a  Turkish  Bath.  (To  CLAUDIA) 
There,  Piggy.  Now,  give  me  the  other  one. 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  up  at  him)  Daddy  .  .  . 
are  you  somebody's  mamma,  with — with  trousers 
on? 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Why,  what  a  question. 
What  makes  you  say  that  ? 

CLAUDIA.     'Cause — 'cause  you  know  how. 

PEYTON.  Good!  And  now  I  think  we'll  have  a 
pass  or  two  at  this  wise  little  face  of  yours. 

(PUCKERS  hands  him  the  towel  and  goes  around 
table  to  c.  He  begins  washing  her  face  with  a 
corner  of  the  towel.) 

CLAUDIA.    O-u-c-h ! 

PUCKERS,  (c.,  bursting  into  a  laugh)  Ho,  Lud! 
/  knowed  'e  wasn't  nobody's  mammer. 


30  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PEYTON.  (Sympathetically)  A— h!  Did  I  hurt 
you,  Piggy  ?  Well,  never  mind.  It's  all  done.  It's 
all  done.  (RUNION  and  PUCKERS  down  R.  laugh 
heartily  together  until,  stopped  by  indignant  PEY 
TON,  they  stop  suddenly)  Runion,  you  may  be  ex 
cused. 

RUNION.  (Bowing  and  retreating  with  the 
basin)  Thank  you.  (Puts  basin  up  stage) 

PEYTON.  (Calling)  Oh,  I  say— Runion!  Bet 
ter  get  some  milk  before  you  leave.  She  might 
wake  up  in  the  night  and 

CLAUDIA.  (With  flouted  dignity)  I  don't  drink 
milk  at  night.  Babies  do  that. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing  foolishly.  Looking  at  RUN- 
ION)  Oh,  babies  do  that!  (Turning  to  RUNION 
with  a  grin)  Better  make  it  a  hand  glass  and  a  box 
of  rouge. 

RUNION.  (Solemnly)  Very  good,  sir.  (Starts 
vway) 

PEYTON.  Man  alive— that's  a  joke.  (Impa 
tiently) 

RUNION.  Is  it,  sir?  Very  good,  sir.  Good 
night. 

PUCKERS.    Say!    'E's  a  awful  fool  .  .  .  ain't  'e? 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Puckers  ....  there  are 
certain  axioms  to  which  a  reference  is  garish  and 
impolite.  (With  a  bow)  And  now — if  you  will 
pardon  me — I  suggest  that  the  nymph  retire  to  her 
coral  couch  in  the  limpid  depth  of  her  subter 
ranean  bower. 

PUCKERS.    Sir? 

PEYTON.  Oh — in  other  words — will  you  please 
get  out? 

PUCKERS.  O — h!  (She  crosses  in  front,  de 
murely,  to  fire-place  and  unhooks  her  brick,  keeps 
her  back  to  PEYTON  for  bus.  Sits  on  floor,  warms 
hands) 

PEYTON.  (To  CLAUDIA,  as  he  sets  her  on  feet) 
Now,  dear,  we'll  get  undressed.  (Business  of  look- 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  31 

ing  at  front  and  sides  of  dress  for  buttons.  He 
looks  nonplussed,  then  towards  PUCKERS,  as  if  to 
ask  her;  business;  then  finally  speaks  to  CLAUDIA) 

CLAUDIA.    It  buttons  in  the  back. 

PEYTON.  Ah!  I  thought  so.  How  stupid  of 
me.  (He  begins  unfastening  her  dress) 

PUCKERS.  (Crossing  behind  table  to  R.  c.) 
Good-night,  Miss  Gaudy. 

CLAUDIA.  Good-night,  Puckers.  Come  back  in 
the  mornin',  won't  you? 

PUCKERS.  I  will,  Miss.  Yes'm.  (To  PEYTON, 
with  a  grin)  Good-night,  Mr.  Mommer  with 
trousers  on!  (She  laughs  and  exits  noisily) 

PEYTON.  (Calling  loudly)  Here,  you!  (Smil 
ing)  Poor  little  motherless  rat!  (To  CLAUDIA) 
Now,  Piggy !  (He  unfastens  her  dress,  leaving  her 
in  low-necked  underbody  and  a  skimpy,  ragged  pet 
ticoat.  He  then  unties  the  bundle  which  RUNION 
has  brought,  shakes  out  a  tiny  little  nightgown  and 
holds  it  up  admiringly)  See  that  gown?  That's 
a  wishing-gown,  just  like  a  wishing  cap  in  the  fairy 
book. 

CLAUDIA.     Is  it? 

PEYTON.  (Nodding)  Um-hum.  You  just  put 
it  on,  (Bus.)  and  wish  yourself  asleep,  and  in  a 
little  while,  why — why,  there  vou  are.  See?  (She 
looks  at  him  wonderingly.  He  puts  the  gown  over 
her  head,  then  unfastens  her  underclothing  from 
beneath) 

CLAUDIA.  (Kicking  to  free  herself  from  the 
tangle  of  clothes)  Will  you  tell  me  a  story  now? 

PEYTON.  (Taking  her  into  his  lap  and  pulling 
off  her  shoes  and  stockings)  The  very  nicest  one  I 
know.  But  let's  get  ready  first.  We  can't  go  to 
bed  with  our  shoes  and  stockings  on.  (Holding  up 
one  much-worn  shoe  and  shaking  his  head)  Um! 
We'll  have  to  see  about  some  bran'  new  hoffies  soon. 
Gracious  !  and  stockings,  too !  These  five  little  pink 
rascals  are  peeping  out  of  jail.  Oh!  did  you  ever 


32  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

hear  that  little  story  about  the  five  little  pink  ras 
cals? 

This  little  pig  went  to  market, 
This  little  pig  stayed  home, 
This  little  pig  got  roast  beef, 
And  this  little  pig  got  none, 

And  this  little  pig  said  wee-wee-wee  all  the  way 
home. 

(Laughing.  Rising  and  placing  her  In  his  chair 
L.  of  table,  she  takes  up  the  apple  again  from  table) 
Now,  sit  right  there  while  I  warm  your  nest.  (He 
crosses  to  the  fire-place,  holding  his  dressing-gown 
before  the  blase) 

CLAUDIA.  (Climbing  from  the  chair)  I — I 
haven't  kissed  mamma  good-night,  yet.  (Starts 
toward  rear  by  c.) 

PEYTON.  (Nervously,  as  he  intercepts  her) 
Well — we — well,  you  know  I  said  mamma  was 
resting,  dear — and — come,  let  me  wrap  you  up. 
(CLAUDIA  puts  her  fingers  in  her  mouth  and  backs 
azuay  distrustfully.  PEYTON  looks  at  her  a  moment 
in  silence,  then  speaks  tenderly,  caressingly,  as  he 
kneels  with  the  dressing-gown  in  his  hands) 
Claudia  .  .  .  would  you  disturb  mamma  .  .  .  when 
she  needs  her  rest?  She  told  me  to  kiss  you  for 
her,  darling.  .  .  .  (CLAUDIA  goes  to  him  L.)  She 
whispered  it  ....  before  she  went  to  sleep. 

(CLAUDIA  sighs,  then  places  one  hand  in  his  confi' 
dentially.) 

CLAUDIA.  And  we  won't  wake  her  up  .... 
will  we? 

(PEYTON  shakes  his  head,  then  in  silence  he  wraps 
her  in  the  dressing-gown,  seats  himself  and 
holds  her  in  his  arms.) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  33 

PEYTON.  (Sits  on  couch  in  the  firelight)  Now, 
suppose  we  have  that  story.  Which  shall  it  be,  a 
true  story — or  a  m'ake-believe  story? 

CLAUDIA.  Oh,  a  true  one — with  a  Prince  in  it — - 
just  like  you. 

PEYTON.  Just  like  me?  All  right.  Um.  .  .  . 
Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  poor,  young 
chap, 

CLAUDIA.    Is  a  Prince  a  chap  ? 

PEYTON.  Well,  yes — sometimes.  This  one  was, 
anyway.  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a,  poor,  young 
chap  ....  and  he  lived  in  a  bully  old  city  named 
New  York. 

CLAUDIA.    What  does  "  bully  "  mean  ? 

PEYTON.  Bully?  Oh!  great  and  splendid — fine. 
But  the  Chap  wasn't  much  of  a  Prince,  after  all,  for 
he  hadn't  any  money,  Piggy  ....  and  he  just  had 
to  scratch  for  a  living. 

CLAUDIA.    Like  a  chicken? 

PEYTON.  (Nodding)  Urn-hum!  That's  it — ex 
actly.  .  .  .  And  he  made  little  figures  out  of  clay; 
but  the  people  wouldn't  buy  'em — and  then — to 
make  it  worse — he  met  a  Princess. 

CLAUDIA.     A  real  Princess? 

PEYTON.  (Dreamily)  Yes,  dear.  .  .  .  She  was 
beautiful  ....  and  good  .  .  .  with  great  brown 
glorious  eyes  ....  that  looked  into  the  Prince 
Chap's  soul  .  .  .  and  made  him  hungry  .  .  .  for 
her  love. 

CLAUDIA.  (After  pause)  What  was  the  Prin 
cess'  name? 

PEYTON.     (Tenderly)     Princess  ....  Alice. 

CLAUDIA.    And  did  she  like  the  Prince  ? 

PEYTON.    Yes,  dear;  she  liked  him  so  much  that 
• — that  she  cried  when  he  went  away. 
.  CLAUDIA.    Why  did  he  have  to  go  away  ? 

PEYTON.  To  seek  his  fortune,  Claudia.  .  .  .  He 
went  in  a  big,  bij  ship  .  .  .  and  left  her  watching 
„  .  .  on  the  shore.  ,  .  And  when  he  had  sailed  for 


34  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

miles  and  miles,  he  came  to  land  .  .  .  and  began 
his  work  again.  .  .  And  it  was  hard,  Piggy  .  .  .  for 
the  critics  laughed  .  .  .  and  the  people  passed  him, 
one  by  one,  and  wouldn't  buy.  .  .  He  was  hungry 
.  .  .  and  alone.  .  .  But  when  at  night  he  would  lie 
in  his  little  dark  room,  to  think,  and  think,  and 
think,  why,  then,  he  would  remember  Princess 
Alice — He'd  see  her  watching  on  the  shore — watch 
ing  for  him — and  somehow  ...  it  made  him 
strong  again  ....  and  then 

CLAUDIA.    Did  the  Prince  Chap  go  home! 

PEYTON.      (Gently)      No,   Piggy,   for  the  storj 
isn't  finished  yet — not  yet. 

CLAUDIA.  (Nestling  closer  in  his  arms)  And 
will  you  tell  it  to  me  ...  when  it  is  ? 

PEYTON.       (Sadly)       Yes,     darling 

I'll  tell  it  to  you  .  .  .  when  it  is.  (With  a  change 
of  tone)  Now,  suppose  we  whisper  to  that  wish- 
ing-gown,  and  go  fast  asleep? 

CLAUDIA.  (Slipping  from  his  lap)  But — I 
haven't  said  my  prayers  yet. 

PEYTON.  Why — er — oh,  yes — yes,  of  course.  ] 
— I  had  forgotten  about  the  prayers. 

CLAUDIA.  Don't  you  say  prayers  to — to  keep 
things  from  catchin'  you? 

PEYTON.  (Nervously)  Well — er — you  see — itV 
this  way.  There  are  lots  of  different  kinds  ol 
prayers,  and — er — and  I  dare  say  mine  are — um— ;- 
sort  of  different.  How  do  yours  begin? 

CLAUDIA.  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  Now  I  lay  me 
— Prayers  always  begin  like  that. 

PEYTON.  Ah !  Of  course  they  do !  Used  to  say 
'em  that  way  myself  when  I  was  a  little  shaver, 
Well,  come  on,  Piggy,  and  we'll  see  if  we  can  sort 
of  work  'em  out  together.  (He  takes  the  apple  from 
her  and  puts  it  beside  him;  she  notes  position.  As 
CLAUDIA  kneels  before  him,  bowing  her  head  upon 
his  knee)  You  go  ahead  and  I'll — and  I'll  listen, 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  35 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  up)  Oh,  but  you  have  to 
help. 

PEYTON.     (Cheerfully')     All  right.     Now  I  lay 

CLAUDIA.    Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep. 

PEYTON.    I  prry  the  Lord 

CLAUDIA.     My  soul  to  keep. 

PEYTON.    If  I • 

CLAUDIA.     If  I • 

PEYTON.    If  I  should 

CLAUDIA.    If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 

PEYTON.    I  pray 

CLAUDIA.    The  Lord  my  soul  to  take. 

PEYTON.     (With  prompt  finality)    Amen! 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  up)  Oh,  no,  it  isn't  amen 
yet.  It's  some  more  to  it.  And  pray  God  bless 
mamma,  and  make  her  well  and  strong  .  .  .  and 
stop  her  coughin'  ....  and  make  me  a  good  little 
girl  .  .  .  with  clean  hands  .  .  and  a  clean  face 
.  .  .  and  a  clean  heart.  .  .  (Pause) 

PEYTON.     (Gently)    Yes,  dear  ....  go  on. 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  up)  And  God  bless  Daddy 
.  .  .  .  and  the  Prince  Chap? 

PEYTON.  (Biting  his  lips)  Yes,  little  one.  .  .  . 
I  think  we  might  put  that  in  ...  it  wouldn't  hurt. 

CLAUDIA.  And  God  bless  Princess  Alice 

(PEYTON  looks  down  on  her  a  moment,  bows  his 
head,  then  silently  folds  her  in  his  arms)  I  think 
that's  all.  Amen!  (Reaches  for  her  apple  and 
holds  it  to  her  breast.  He  lifts  her  into  his  lap  and 
lays  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  tucking  the 
dressing-gown  carefully  about  her.  She  puts  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  kisses  him,  and  settles 
herself  with  a  sleepy  sigh.  There  is  a  silence. 
The  apple  rolls  from  CLAUDIA'S  grasp — the  noise 
of  its  falling  arouses  her.  Stirring,  then  speaking 
slowly,  sleepily)  Daddy  .  .  .  that  was  a  ...  bully 
gjood  prayer  .  .  .  wasn't  it? 


36  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

(Her  eyes  close  again;  her  arm  drops  slowly  to  her 
side.  PEYTON  looks  before  him,  speaking  in  a 
half -conscious  whisper.) 

PEYTON.      Yes,    darling  ....  I    think    it    was 
the  bulliest  prayer  ...  I  ever  ....  heard. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE: — Five  days  before  Christmas  Day. 

Two  years  after  close  of  Act  First.  Studio 
as  before,  with  the  exception  of  the  furnish 
ings,  which  are  much  finer.  A  large  rug  covers 
the  floor  and  the  statue  is  removed  from  the 
table.  An  air  of  prosperity  pervades  the 
room.  CLAUDIA,  with  a  huge  broom,  is  sweep 
ing  before  the  fire-place  and  hums  a  song  as 
she  works. 
PEYTON  enters  from  c. 

PEYTON.  (Up  c.)  Hullo,  little  woman.  Why— 
(Stopping  and  laughing)  What  are  you  doing? 

CLAUDIA.     (At  fire-place)     Sweepin'. 

PEYTON.  (Comes  down  c.)  Humph!  Don't 
know  which  is  the  biggest,  the  contract  or  the 
broom.  What  is  the  cause  of  this — this  sudden  in 
dustry? 

CLAUDIA.  (To  L.  c.)  You  see  ...  when  Santa 
Claus  comes  down  the  chimney  .  .  .  and  finds 
everything  nice  and  clean  and  sweet,  maybe — maybe 
he'll  put  in  a  few  more  things. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing  and  pointing  his  finger) 
Bribery,  Piggy.  Rank  bribery!  If  you  want  him 
to  bring  you  lots  of  things,  you  ought  to  keep  the 
room  sweet  all  the  time.  Not  just  once  or  twice, 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  37 

but  all  the  time.     (Looks  over  mail  on  table  c.) 
You  see  that,  don't  you? 

(CLAUDIA  rests  on  her  broom,  in  thought.) 

CLAUDIA.  Daddy,  how  many  days  till  Christmas, 
now? 

PEYTON.    Five  more,  Piggy. 

CLAUDIA.  (Sighing)  I — I  wish  it  was  only 
three. 

PEYTON.  (Looking  up  with  a  smile)  Wait  un 
til  day  after  to-morrrow,  and  it  will  be  only 
three — and  then —  Larks!  Come!  (She  drops  her 
broom  and  runs  toward  him.  He  regards  the  broom 
fixedly  until  she  turns,  places  it  in  a  corner  and 
comes  to  him) 

PEYTON.  Ah,  that's  better.  Jump!  (Swings 
her  into  lap.  Frowning)  Um — what  were  those 
things  we  wanted  old  Santa  to  bring  us? 

CLAUDIA.      The    muff    and    the    box    of    domi 


noes 

PEYTON.    Yes. 

CLAUDIA.  The  sewing  basket  and  the  roller 
skates. 

PEYTON.    Of  course. 

CLAUDIA.  And  the  wax  doll  that  when  you 
squeeze  her  in  the  stomach  she  says  Wa-n-n-h ! 

PEYTON.  Er — Claudia,  aren't  you  getting  too  old 
for  dolls  ?  Suppose  we  cut  it  out  ? 

CLAUDIA.    Just  one  more,  Daddy.    Just  one  more. 

PEYTON.     All  right — all  right.     Anything  more? 

CLAUDIA.  (Nodding)  Lots!  There's  the  slip 
pers  and  things  for  Runion,  a  new  dress  for  Puck 
ers,  and  pipe  and  a  hatrack,  and  oh!  a  secret,  and 
nobody  knows  anything  about  it  but  Runion  and  me. 
You  won't  ask  him,  will  you?  He'd  tell  all  about  it, 
'cause  he's  such  a — such  a  dunderhead. 

PEYTON.  (Reprovingly)  Claudia!  You  mustn't 
use  such  words.  It's  naughty! 


38  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

CLAUDIA.    But  you  say  it,  Daddy. 

PEYTON.    Urn— yes— but  that's  different. 

CLAUDIA.  (After  pause,  looking  up  at  him) 
Daddy,  when  we  are  having  our  jolly-go-bang,  will 
mamma  see  us  from  way  up  in  Heaven? 

PEYTON.  (Gently)  Yes,  darling  ...  I  know 
she  will  .  .  .  and  it  will  make  her,  oh,  so  happy. 
Well,  does  the  secret  wind  things  up? 

CLAUDIA.  Oh,  no.  There's  the  purple  balloon 
and  the  Noah's  Ark,  and  a  kitten,  and— Oh !  a  real 
live  pony  and  a  pony  cart  and 

PEYTON.  Hold  on — a  pony  cart!  Hold  on. 
Real  live  ponies  cost  heaps  of  money,  Piggy,  and 
you  know  our  bargain.  We  are  going  to  save  until 
the  bank  man  will  take  off  his  hat  when  he  sees  us 
in  the  street ;  and  then  we  will  get  on  a  big  steam 
boat  and  sail  away  to 

CLAUDIA.     To  Princess  Alice! 

PEYTON.  (Happily)  Yes,  dearie,  yes!  .  .  To 
Princess  Alice  .  .  .  and  then  our  life  will  be 
(Slowly)  one  .  .  .  long  .  .  .  sweet  .  .  . 

CLAUDIA.    Jolly-go-bang f 

PEYTON.  (Smiling  and  holding  her  close  in  his 
arms)  I  think  it  will  be  even  more,  little  one  .  .  . 
even  more. 

CLAUDIA.    And  will  the  Princess  love  me,  Daddy  ? 

PEYTON.  Love  you?  ....  Yes.  .  .  You  will 
be  our  little  girl  then — her*s  and  mine.  You  would 
like  that,  wouldn't  you? 

CLAUDIA.  (Thoughtfully)  Daddy  ...  I  think 
I  would  rather  stay  right  here  with— with  just  you. 

PEYTON.  Ah,  bless  your  heart!  (Kissing  her) 
Well,  run  along  to  your  sweeping  now.  (CLAUDIA 
slips  from  his  lap,  takes  up  dust  broom  and  pan 
and  begins  sweeping,  humming  happily  to  herself. 
PEYTON  returns  to  his  letters) 

CLAUDIA.  (Reflectively.  Comes  to  table  oppo 
site  PEYTON,  kneels  on  a  chair)  Daddy! 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  39 

PEYTON.  (Seated  R.  of  table)  Well,  little 
woman  ? 

CLAUDIA.  Do  you  believe  in  Santa  Claus — honest 
— double  and  twisted? 

PEYTON.  (Starting)  Do  I  be —  Why — why — 
Claudia! — what  put  such  an  idea  into  your  head? 

CLAUDIA.  (Leaning  forward,  with  her  chin  upon- 
her  hands)  I've  been  thinking,  Daddy — hard — 
and  I 

PEYTON.  (Tenderly)  Well!  Let's  see  if  we 
can  straighten  it  out.  What's  the  trouble? 

CLAUDIA.     Is  Santa  Claus  a  good  man? 

PEYTON.  Good!  Why,  he's  just  about  the  best 
old  chap  that  ever  lived. 

CLAUDIA.  (Slowly)  Then,  why  is  it  ...  that 
when  children  are  rich,  Santa  Claus  brings  'em — 
Oh — just  heaps  of  things  .  .  .  and  when  they  are 
poor,  he — he  don't  bring  'em — er — hardly  anything. 
Why  is  that,  Daddy? 

PEYTON.  (Simply  sits  and  stares  at  CLAUDIA, 
finally  turns  face  R.  and  emits  long  whistle.  Aside) 
Good  Lord,  but  that's  a  poser!  (Turning  to 
CLAUDIA — talks  across  table)  Um — you  see,  Piggy 
— it's  this  way.  That  old  man  knows  what  he's 
about.  Don't  you  doubt  it  for  a  minute.  Now, 
take  the  rich  children 

CLAUDIA.  But  their  Papas  can  give  'em  toys  and 
things,  anyway. 

PEYTON.  (Scratching  his  head  in  perplexity) 
All  right.  Take  the  poor  children.  (He  hesitates f 
looks  troubled,  then  goes  on)  Suppose  Santa  Claus 
brought  those  poor  children  guns  and  trumpets 
and  things.  Do  you  think  the  little  beggars  would 
be  satisfied?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  They'd  just  want 
more!  It's  all  for  the  best!  You  see  that,  don't 
you  ?  (Sits  in  arm-chair.  Picks  up  letter  and  scans 
page) 

CLAUDIA.     (Reflectively)     No,  I  don't! 

PEYTON.      (Looks   at   her    quickly.      Thinking 


40  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

hard)  Well,  that's  too  bad.  All  right.  Look  at  it 
another  way.  (He  pauses  again  in-  perplexity,  then 
his  face  lights  up)  Ah!  ....  (Moves  chair) 
Now,  for  the  last  whole  month  you've  just  been 
aching  for  a  real  live  pony  and  a  pony  cart,  haven't 
you? 

CLAUDIA.  (Leans  eagerly  across  table.  Clasping 
her  hands  and  sighing)  Yes,  Daddy !  Can  I  have 
him? 

PEYTON.  You  wait  a  minute.  (Pointing  finger 
at  her  and  speaking  slowly  and  impressively)  Sup 
pose  .  .  .  when  you  waked  up  on  Christmas  morn 
ing  and  came  in  here  .  .  .  you  found  the  pony  cart 
— and  nothing  else — then  what  would  you  want? 

CLAUDIA.  (Putting  hands  behind  head  and  laugh 
ing)  Daddy  .  .  .  I — I  reckon  I'd  want  the  pony. 

PEYTON.  (Rises,  slapping  knee,  goes  to  R. 
Grinning  broadly  and  kicking  out  his  feet  as  he 
walks)  There  you  are!  What  did  I  tell  you? 
Santa  Claus  knows  something!  He's  nobody's 
jack-o-me-lantern!  (Turning  and  speaking  seri 
ously — returns  to  c.  and  stands)  Now,  let's  sift 
this  thing  to  the  bottom.  Who  started  you  to  think 
about  it? 

CLAUDIA.     Puckers. 

PEYTON.    She  did,  eh ?    What  about  her? 

CLAUDIA.  (Knitting  her  brows)  Well,  last 
Chris'mus  she  hung  up  her  stockin'  .  .  .  and  after 
she  had  wrote 

PEYTON.     (Correcting  her)     Written! 

CLAUDIA.  Written  letters  to  Santa  Claus  and 
hollered  up  the  chimney  and  prayed  God  for  a  ring 
and  five  boxes  of  candy  and  a  red  flannel  petticoat 
• — what  do  you  think  she  found  in  her  stockin'  ? 

PEYTON.    What? 

CLAUDIA.  (Slowly,  with  indignation  and  dis 
gust)  Not — a-bloomin'  thing! 

PEYTON.  (Striving  to  suppress  a  laugh)  Well 
.  .  that  was  rather  rough  on  poor  little  Phoebe. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  41 

(Thoughtfully)  Humph!  .  .  (Leans  against  table 
c.)  Maybe  she  didn't  pray  hard  enough. 

CLAUDIA.  But  she  did,  though.  She — she  prayed 
like  thunder! 

PEYTON.  (Aside)  Another  hickory-nut  for 
youthful  faith  to  crack  a  tooth  on — (Moves  from 
table  after  pause.  Turning)  Well,  Piggy,  I'll  tell 
you  what  we'll  do.  (Crosses  to  mantel  L.)  You 
tell  Puckers  to  hang  her  stockings  here — (Touches 
mantel)  by  yours — and  perhaps — I  say  perhaps 

CLAUDIA.  (Going  towards  him)  And  will  Santa 
Claus  really  put  something  in? 

PEYTON.  Haven't  a  doubt  of  it.  Fact  is,  I'll 
speak  to  him  myself. 

CLAUDIA.  (Running  to  him)  Oh,  Daddy  .  .  . 
you're  awful  good ! 

PEYTON.  (Swings  her  to  standing  position  on 
chair  L.,  reprovingly)  Claudia!  .  .  you  mustn't 
say  awful  good.  It  isn't  correct. 

CLAUDIA.  (Stretching  up  her  arms  to  him)  I 
know  it  isn't,  Daddy.  .  .  But  it's  true.  (Arms 
about  his  neck) 

(PEYTON  picks  her  up  in  his  arms  and  kisses  her. 
Enter  RUN  ION  with  a  card  tvay  and  an  air  of 
pompous  dignity.) 

PEYTON.  (Glancing  toward  card  tray)  Well, 
Runion?  (Crosses  to  c.)  Who  is  it? 

(CLAUDIA  jumps  down,  picks  up  pan  and  brush  and 
exits  door  up  c.) 

RUNION.  (Closing  his  eyes  and  rolling  the  name 
with  unctuous  enjoyment)  Sir  John  Bollin'brook 
Rodney,  sir — Earl  of  'Untin'ton! 

PEYTON.  The  Earl  of  Huntington,  eh?  (Takes 
card)  Well — tell  Jack  to  trot  along  up. 

RUNION.  (Aghast)  Trot,  sir?  The  Earl  of 
'Untin'ton  trot? 


42  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PEYTON.     (Moves  L. — Taking  card)    Urn — h'm! 

(RUNION,  with  an  air  of  outraged  dignity,  retires 
slowly  to  R.,  glancing  over  his  shoulder  at  PEY 
TON,  and  exits.) 

PEYTON.  (Stands  with  back  to  fire  reading  card. 
Looking  at  the  card  in  amusement)  Earl  of 
'Untin'ton!  Ha,  he,  ha,  ha!  The  idea  of  Jack's 
sending  up  his  card.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha !  Ridiculous ! 

RUNION.  (From  doorway,  pompously)  The 
Earl  of  'Untin'ton! 

(Enter  JACK  RODNEY  in  immaculate  morning  dress, 
monocle,  etc.  He  advances  slowly,  speaking 
with  a  refined  drawl.) 

JACK.    A — h!    Are  you  there,  old  chap? 

PEYTON.  (Crossing  to  c  and  extending  his  hand 
warmly)  Hello!  Come  in.  Glad  to  see  you. 

JACK.     Er — thank  you.     Glad  to  see  you,  Billy! 

PEYTON.  (Hands  box  from  table)  Have  a 
cigar? 

JACK.     Thank  you — n-e-o! 

PEYTON.    Have  a  drink? 

JACK.    Thank  you — n-e-o ! 

PEYTON.  (Motions  to  arm-chair  R.  of  table. 
Laughing)  Well,  have  an  inexpensive  seat. 

JACK.  Thank  you — y-e-s  !  (Seating  himself  de 
liberately,  arranging  his  coat-tails  and  adjusting  the 
knees  of  his  trousers)  Fact  is,  dear  boy  .  .  .  have 
come  to  awsk  ...  a  favar. 

PEYTON.  (Dropping  into  chair  L.  of  table  c.) 
All  risfht.  Blaze  away! 

JACK.    Huh? 

PEYTON.    Heave  ahead ! 

JACK.    What? 

PEYTON.    What's  the  row? 

JACK.    Oh!  I  see  what  you  mean.    Fact  is,  dear 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  43 

boy  .  .  .  have  an  ordah  ....  for  a  painting  .  .  . 
from  a  church.  Rum  go  ...  having  an  ordah 
.  .  .  from  a  church.  .  .  Isn't  it? 

PEYTON.  (Lights  a  cigar.  Puffing  his  cigar) 
Yes.  It  would  be  still  more  rummy,  though,  if  you 
had  it  from  a  saloon. 

JACK.     (Blankly)     Er — beg  pardon? 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Nothing,  Jack,  I  reckon 
that  one's  too  deep  for  you.  Well — the  favor? 

JACK.  Am  looking  for  a  model  .  .  .  for  the 
painting. 

PEYTON.  Oh,  I  see!  And  so  you  want  to  paint 
me,  do  you  ?  Good ! 

JACK.  You!  (Disgustedly)  N-e-o!  Theideah! 
Ha,  ha !  Absurd !  Fancy  you  ...  in  a  church. 
Ha,  ha! 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Then,  suppose  you  take 
Runion.  He's  solemn  enough,  Goodness  knows. 

JACK.  Runion !  Rot !  Er —  Billy  .  .  .  how  do 
you  Americans  express  it  ...  when  a  chap  is  a 
sort  of  idiot — some  beastly  nonsense  about — er — a 
trolley. 

PEYTON.    Trolley  ? 

JACK.     Off  something  or  other. 

(PEYTON  smiles,  thinks  for  a  moment,  then  turns 
again  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.) 

PEYTON.  Oh,  I  see,  then  what  would  you  say  to 
Puckers?  Valkyrie  entering  upon  the  wings  of 
storm — coalscuttle  in  foreground — woe  and  devas 
tation  trailing  after — action — spirit — tone 

JACK.  (Raising  his  hands  as  though  he  were 
warding  off  a  blow)  Oh,  I  say,  Billy — don't!  Fact 
is,  dear  boy  ...  I  want  that  little  girl  of  yours. 
Jolly  little  beggar!  Ha,  ha! 

PEYTON.  Claudia?  Why,  Jack!  I — I  appreci 
ate  it,  and  will  be  delighted. 

JACK.    Er — thank  you. 


44  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PEYTON.  That  is — of  course — if  the  sittings  are 
ftot  too  long.  I  wouldn't  like  to  tire  her,  you  know. 

JACK.  Only  want  her  .  .  .  for  harf  an  hour 
.  .  .  three  days. 

PEYTON.  Good!  It  will  please  the  child  vastly. 
(Rises  to  L.  c.)  And  I  know  you  will  do  the  pic 
ture  well.  Um — what  about  her  clothes  and  things  ? 

JACK.  Very  simple.  .  .  Nothing.  .  .  She's  a 
cherub. 

PEYTON.  (Starting)  The  nude!  (After  slight 
pause)  That — that  alters  it — of  course.  (Puts 
down  cigar  in  ash  tray)  I  thought  you  wished  to 
paint  her — er — otherwise.  However,  it  is  quite 
out  of  the  question — quite  out  of  the  question. 
(Goes  down  L.) 

JACK.  (Rises,  laughing.  Stands  looking  at  PEY 
TON)  Oh,  I  say,  Billy.  What  an  extrawd'n'ry 
chap  you  are!  All  this  fuss  .  .  .  over  ...  a 
baby's  petticoat.  Ha,  ha!  What  would  it  matter? 

PEYTON.     It  matters  everything — everything! 

JACK.  (Shrugging)  But,  she's  not  your  child. 
.  .  .  She's  only  a 

PEYTON.  (Wheeling  sharply)  She's  my  life — 
my  heart — my  soul !  (As  JACK  rises,  backing  away 
in  astonishment,  PEYTON  speaks  in  a  calmer  tone) 
Come,  man,  don't  let  our  friendship  split  on  such 
a  little  rock  as  this. 

JACK.  (Crosses  quickly.  Taking  hand,  holding 
it  and  speaking  slowly)  Billy,  old  fellar  .  .  .  I'm 
quite  old  enough.  .  .  to  have  known  better.  .  . 
Forgive  me.  .  .  .  I'm  an  ass ! 

PEYTON.  (Laying  his  other  hand  on  JACK'S  as 
they  shake)  It's  all  right.  Now,  sit  down  and  have 
a  smoke. 

JACK.    Thank  you — n-e-o ! 

PEYTON.  Why  not?  You  haven't  a  thing  in  the 
world  to  do. 

JACK.  Must  find  a  model  ...  for  the  painting. 
(Crossing  to  door)  Drop  in,  old  chap,  and  give  me 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  45 

the  benefit  ...  of  your  advice.  .  .  (Smoothing  his 
silk  hat  with  his  sleeves)  By  the  way,  Billy — saw 
something  in  a  Christmas  shop  to-day.  .  .  Think 
it  would  please  .  .  .  your  little  girl.  (At  door  he 
turns  with  a  beaming  smile)  Rum  go  ...  having 
an  ordah  .  .  .  from  a  church.  .  .  Isn't  it?  (Exit) 

PEYTON.  (Calling  after  him)  Good-bye,  Jack! 
Come  again — often! 

JACK.     (Outside)    Thanks! 

PEYTON.  (Slowly  pacing  up  and  down  with  his 
eyes  on  the  floor)  He  didn't  think  .  .  .  the  dear 
old  idiot.  .  .  .  (Stands  R.  c,  looking  at  door  R.)  I 
reckon  he  didn't  think.  (CLAUDIA  enters  from 
right,  at  "  Thanks,"  carrying  a  folded  note  in  her 
hand.  She  crosses  to  fire-place,  places  the  note  in  a 
pair  of  tongs  and  pushes  it  up  the  chimney.  PEY 
TON  turns,  leans  down  to  see  what  she  is  doing,  etc. 
Watching  her)  What  are  you  doing,  little  woman? 
Taking  another  whack  at  that  pony?  (Over  L.  c.) 
If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  set  my  heart  on  him  too 
much.  I'm  afraid  he  won't  come  this  Christmas. 

CLAUDIA.  (L.,  with  her  back  to  the  fire)  I 
wasn't  askin'  for  the  pony,  Daddy.  I  was  just 
writin*  about  the  reins  and  the  whip  that — that 
come  with  him. 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Yes,  I  see.  Delicate  little 
feminine  hint  for  the  balance  of  the  outfit.  (Shak 
ing  head)  But,  it  won't  do,  Claudia;  it  won't  do. 

(Enter  RUNION  with  card  tray.) 

RUNION.  (Crosses  to  table  c.,  stands  R.  of  it) 
Beg  pardon,  sir — a  despatch.  Jus'  come,  sir — • 
charges  paid. 

PEYTON.  (L.  of  table,  reaches  across — taking  the 
telegram)  Thank  you,  Runion.  You  needn't  wait. 

RUNION.  Very  good,  sir.  (He  glances  longingly 
at  the  envelope  and  exits  lingeringly) 

PEYTON.  (Opening  telegram  with  his  pencil) 
We  can't  have  everything  we  want,  Piggy — I  knew 


46  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

a  little  girl  once — nice  little  girl  she  was,  too — who 
wanted —  (He  glances  at  the  contents  of  the  tele 
gram,  gasps.  Reads  again,  crushes  it  in  his  hand 
and  cries  out  in  ecstasy)  Piggy  ....  Oh,  Piggy, 
Piggy,  who  do  you  think  is  coming? 

CLAUDIA.    The  pony? 

PEYTON.  (Stands  L.  c.  Joyously)  No,  darling, 
no!  ....  Princess  Alice!  (Seizing  CLAUDIA  and 
tossing  her  up  in  the  air)  Think  of  it!  She's 
coming !  Here !  To  us !  To  you  .  .  .  and  to  me ! 
(Showing  telegram.  Taking  CLAUDIA'S  hands, 
dancing  up  and  down,  laughing  boyishly.  CLAUDIA 
does  so  reluctantly)  And  just  at  Christmas  time, 
too !  Lordy !  Think  of  that !  What  did  I  tell  you 
about  the  jolly-go-bang  we  were  going  to  have?  It 
will  be  bigger  now  .  .  .  for  Alice  will  be  with  us ! 
Alice !  ( Crosses  to  R.  c.  Starting.  Taking  out  his 
watch)  You  stay  here  and  keep  house  for  me. 
Get  my  hat !  Get  my  hat !  (As  CLAUDIA  retires  at 
rear  c.,  he  calls)  Runion!  Oh,  I  say,  Runion! 
Runion ! 

RUNION.  (Entering  R.  hurriedly)  Anything 
wrong,  sir? 

PEYTON.  (Laughing  joyously)  Wrong?  Not 
much!  It's  right!  (Slaps  him  on  L.  shoulder. 
Laughs  again  as  RUNION  stares  at  him)  There'll 
be  a  lady  here  presently,  and 

RUNION.    A  lady,  sir? 

PEYTON.  Now,  don':  look  at  me  as  if  you  never 
heard  of  a  lady  before  in  all  your  born  days !  Yes 
a  lady!  My  lady!  She's  going  to  be  my  wife, 
Runion  .  .  .  my  wife! 

RUNION.    O — h! 

j(  CLAUDIA  returns  from  c.  with  the  hat  and  stick 
which  she  hands  to  PEYTON,  then  without  a 
word  she  crosses  to  the  ottoman,  at  table  c., 
seats  herself,  with  her  elbows  on  her  kneesf 
her  chin  upon  her  hands.) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  47 

PEYTON.  (To  RUNION)  She'll  dine  with  us  to 
night,  of  course,  and  I  just  want  you  to  spread 
yourself.  Have  a  dinner  that — that  will  make  us 
sit  up.  Understand? 

RUNION.    Very  good,  sir. 

PEYTON.  That's  it — exactly!  I  want  it  very 
good.  (Clapping  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  looking  at  his  watch)  Here — take  the  money 
and  get  what  you  need.  (Gives  gold  piece) 
Never  mind  the  cost — and — and  keep  the  change! 

RUNION.  (Bowing  and  scraping)  Oh,  thank 
you,  sir — thank  you  very  much,  sir — I — (Starts 
to  exit  door  R.) 

PEYTON.  (Snapping  his  watch.  Turning  and 
calling  loudly  as  RUNION  reaches  the  door)  And, 
oh,  I  say,  Runion — for  the  Lord's  sake — don't  for 
get — the  soup! 

RUNION.  (Bowing  rapidly)  No,  sir,  I  won't 
forget  it,  sir — hoxtail,  sir — very  good,  sir — thank 
you,  sir — (Exit  door  R.)  hoxtail. 

PEYTON.  (Turning  to  CLAUDIA  happily.  Kisses 
her)  Now,  dear,  I'm  off  to  meet  the  Princess. 
Good-bye!  .  .  (She  sits  on  hassock.  At  the  door 
he  turns)  Oh,  I  say  .  .  .  Piggy!  Perhaps  .  .  . 
we  can  think  about  that  pony,  after  all. 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  at  the  floor  and  speaking 
with  a  quivering  lip)  I — I  don't  want  the  old  pony 
now — I 

PEYTON.  (Comes  to  R.  c.  Starting  and  coming 
toward  her  rapidly)  Why,  Claudia!  What's  the 
matter,  child? 

CLAUDIA.  (Rising  and  running  toward  him) 
Oh,  Daddy,  Daddy,  you  love  her  more  than  me! 
(Stretching  up  her  arms  to  him.  sobbing)  Oh, 
Daddy,  don't — don't  love  Princess  Alice  more  than 
me! 

(PEYTON  kneels  beside  her,  takes  her  in  his  arms, 
speaking  tenderly,  earnestly.  After  short  em 
brace,  she  turns  her  face  aside  sullenly.) 


48  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PEYTON.  Claudia,  listen  to  me.  .  .  Give  me  your 
hand.  .  .  There!  .  .  Now,  look  me  in  the  face.  .  , 
Daddy  loves  you  better  than  anything  else  in  all  the 
world.  He  loves  you  .  .  .  and  nothing,  nothing, 
.  .  .  shall  ever  come  between  us.  (She  throws  her 
arms  about  his  neck  again)  He  loves  Princess 
Alice,  too  .  .  .  but  it's  a  different  kind  of  love. 
(As  CLAUDIA  looks  up  inquiringly)  You  wouldn't 
understand  it,  dear;  but  you  will  when  you  are 
older. 

CLAUDIA.  (Sobbing)  But — but,  I  want  to  un 
derstand  it  now. 

PEYTON.  (Thinking  a  moment)  .  .  .  Don't  you 
love  Uncle  Jack  Rodney?  (She  nods) — the  jolly 
Earl  who  used  to  ride  you  on  his  foot,  and  bring 
you  pockets  full  of  candy? 

CLAUDIA.     Yes-s. 

PEYTON.  All  right.  Now,  think!  Do  you  love 
Daddy  any  less,  just  because  you  are  so  devoted  to 
Uncle  Jack? 

CLAUDIA.     N-no. 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Well,  there  you  are !  Don't 
you  see  it's  different?  Come  now — dry  your  eyes 
and  work  it  out  by  yourself.  (Rising.  CLAUDIA 
crosses  to  L.  c.)  Ah,  here's  the  idea!  Take  this 
pencil  and  paper.  (At  table  c.)  and  write  a  letter  to 
Santa  Claus  for  poor  little  Phoebe  Puckers.  She 
hasn't  any  Daddy,  and  not  the  very  first  sign  of  an 
Uncle  Jack.  Think  of  that! 

CLAUDIA.  (With  a  half  sob)  All  right,  Daddy. 
Good-bye.  (Runs  up  to  him  for  a  kiss) 

PEYTON.  Good-bye,  Piggy.  (He  kisses  her  ten 
derly,  crossej  to  door,  turns  back  to  smile,  and  exitsQ 

(  CLAUDIA  kneels  in  chair  beside  the  table,  and  ivrites 
in  silence,  her  breath  catching  occasionally  with 
a  dry  sob.) 

CLAUDIA.  (Pausing)  I  wish — I  wish  she  wasn't 
coming,  though. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  49 

(Again  she  writes  in  silence.  Enter  RUNION,  with 
a  bucket  of  water  and  a  large  rag.  He  sighs 
dejectedly,  shakes  his  head  and  begins  slowly 
to  wash  the  window  sashes,  etc.  Apron  tied 
high  under  arms.) 

(Looking  up)     Runion,  how  do  you  spell  Phoebe? 

RUNION.  Why,  I  spells  it  with  a  F,  Miss — that 
bein'  the  letter  as  was  made  for  it. 

CLAUDIA.  (Doubtfully)  Do  you?  I — I  thought 
Daddy  said  it  was  a  P. 

RUNION.  (Smiling  indulgently  and  standing  with 
the  rag  in  his  hand)  Did  you  now?  Well,  well, 
well!  It  do  take  time  for  a  young'un  to  learn  all 
twenty-six  of  the  alphabets,  an'  that's  a  fack.  Now, 
a  P  is  good  enough  to  spell  potato  with,  an'  even  a 
Puckers,  at  a  pinch — but  for  foxes  and  Feeby's  an' 
fools  an'  things  like  that,  I  allers  uses  a  F,  Miss. 
It  comes  more  'andy. 

CLAUDIA.  (Simply)  Thank  you.  (CLAUDIA 
returns  to  her  writing,  RUNION,  with  a  sigh,  begins 
to  wash  the  window,  when  CLAUDIA  once  more 
looks  up)  Runion  ...  do  you  believe  in  Santa 
Claus? 

RUNION.  (Working  away)  Me?  W'y,  Lor' 
love  ye,  I  know  'im  personal. 

CLAUDIA.  Do  you?  I  wish  I  did.  Think  you'll 
have  anything  in  your  stocking  Christmas? 

RUNION.  (Stops  work  and  turns)  Yes'm.  I 
will  that,  an*  no  mistake. 

CLAUDIA.    What  ? 

RUNION.     (Grinning)     My  foot. 

CLAUDIA.  (Climbing  slowly  out  of  the  chair ', 
with  her  paper  and  pencil  in  hand,  and  regarding 
RUNION  with  deep  indignation)  Runion  ...  I 
wish  Daddy  hadn't  told  me  not  to  call  you  a  dun 
derhead. 

RUNION.    (Still  grinning)    An*  may  I  awsk,  miss 


50  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

CLAUDIA.  (R.  of  table)  'Cause,  if  he  hadn't  told 
me  not  to,  I'd — I'd  call  you  it — that's  why! 

(NOISE:  PUCKERS  falling  up  stairs.  H'o  God! 
H'o  God!  RUNION  looks  at  door — nothing  ap 
pears.  He  resumes  work.  CLAUDIA  lifts  her 
chin  and  marches  up  c.,  scornfully,  out  of  the 
room,  while  RUNION,  ivhistling  merrily,  re 
turns  to  his  window  washing.  Presently  PUCK 
ERS  enters  very  quietly  from  R.  In  one  hand 
she  holds  a  torn  paper  bag,  and  on  the  wide 
spread  fingers  of  the  other,  she  carries  several 
egg  shells,  the  yolky  part  trickling  down  her 
wrist.  She  coughs  to  attract  RUNION'S  atten 
tion.) 

PUCKERS.  (Stands  R.  c.)  'Ere's  the  eggs  wot 
the  grocer  man  brought,  Mr.  Runion!  (As  RUN- 
ION  stares  at  her  in  dumb  horror)  I — I  fell  hup  the 
steps,  sir,  but  I  didn't  broke  but  only  three.  Lucky 
.  .  .  hain't  it? 

RUNION.  (Crossing  to  her,  taking  away  the 
bag,  and  regarding  PUCKER  long  and  earnestly) 
Phoebe  Puckers  ...  if  somebody  was  to  put  you 
in  a  bag  ...  an'  tie  you  up  with  ropes  of  iron  an' 
ropes  of  steel  .  .  .  blarst  me  ...  if  you  wouldn't 
tumble  me  out  an'  bust  somethink. 

PUCKERS.    Yes,  sir.    Does  yer  want  the  shells? 

RUNION.  (Sharply)  No,  I  don't,  I — (She  re 
moves  them)  An'  look  a  'ere!  The  first  thing  you 
have  got  to  do  is  to  wash  them  gormy  'ands  an* 
w'en  yu  gets  that  done,  you  got  to  wash  this  winder, 
w'ilst  I  goes  down  to  interview  that  ijjit  of  a  grocer 
man  for  a  trustin'  you  with  anything  softer  than 
a  cobble  stone  or  a  brick !  (  RUNION  holds  her  with 
a  severe  eye  a  moment  then  exits  c.  with  bag. 
PUCKERS  crosses  to  the  bucket  and  wipes  her  hand 
on  the  window  rag) 

PUCKERS.     (Singing) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  9 

'Umpty  Dumpty  'e  set  on  a  wall, 

'An  'Umpty  Dumpty  'e  come  down — kerflop! 

(She  hurls  the  rag  into  the  bucket,  takes  it  out  again 
and  begins  smearing  the  window  panes,  hum 
ming  to  herself  joyfully.  CLAUDIA  enters  from 
rear  with  her  pencil  and  the  folded  note.  She 
sees  PUCKERS,  puts  the  note  behind  her  and 
tips  toward  the  fire-place,  where  she  is  about 
to  poke  the  note  up  the  chimney  when  RUNION 
enters  from  rear.  He  stares  at  PUCKERS'  work, 
in  amazement.  He  clenches  his  hands,  tips  to 
a  corner  R.,  taking  up  a  slender  stick  ^vhich  he 
feels  as  he  moves  cautiously  toward  PUCKERS. 
PUCKERS  spies  him  over  her  shoulder,  drops 
the  rag  and  exits  precipitately  at  R.  CLAUDIA 
runs  forward,  intercepting  RUNION.) 

CLAUDIA.  Runion !  Were  you  going  to — to  whip 
poor  little  Puckers  ? 

RUNION.  (Eyeing  the  stick  in  some  confusion} 
Me,  miss?  Er — well,  no,  miss;  I  didn't  'ave  no 
such  intentions,  though  she  do  need  a  warmin',  an' 
no  mistake. 

CLAUDIA.  But — but  you  were  going  after  her 
with  a  stick. 

RUNION.  A  stick?  Um — er — (With  a  sudden 
smile)  W'y,  Lor'  love  ye,  miss,  this  'ere's  my  win 
der  washer.  (He  fastens  the  rag  on  the  end  of  the 
stick  and  begins  to  wipe  the  window) 

CLAUDIA.    Oh ! 

(She  crosses  again  to  the  fire-place,  while  RUNION, 
when  her  back  is  turned,  discards  the  rag,  and 
with  the  stick  in  his  hand,  rolls  up  his  sleeves 
and  follows  PUCKERS.  KNOCK  at  door — • 
CLAUDIA  runs  and  opens  it.  Enter  ALICE  TRAV- 
ERS.) 

CLAUDIA.    How  do  you  do? 


52  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

ALICE.  (In  doorway,  after  regarding  CLAUDIA 
in  silence)  Is  this  Mr.  Peyton's  studio? 

CLAUDIA.  Yes.  Daddy  is  away.  (Moves  to  c 
behind  chair  R.  of  table)  But— but  I'll  talk  to  vou 
till  he  gets  back.  (Places  chair)  I  always  do  that. 

ALICE.  (Comes  a  step  into  room)  Ah,  I  see 
you  are  Claudia.  (As  CLAUDIA  nods)  When  do 
you  expect  your  father  home? 

CLAUDIA.  (Shaking  her  head)  I  don't  know, 
Hes  gone  to  meet  a  Princess.  Princess  Alice. 
(ALICE  winces,  turns  away  and  begins  tapping  the 
floor  with  her  foot)  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  (Moves 
arm-chair  to  proper  angle) 

ALICE.  (Crosses  to  the  chair  and  sits  as  CLAUDIA 
closes  door.  Sinking  into  chair)  Why  does  your 
Daddy  call  her  Princess  Alice  ? 

CLAUDIA.  (Returning  to  R.  c.)  Oh,  it's  a  story 
about  her. 

ALICE.    Is  it?    Won't  yo-    tell  it  to  me,  Claudia? 

CLAUDIA.  (Stands  R.  of  ALICE.  Climbing  into 
a  chair  opposite  ALICE)  Yes ;  but  I  can't  tell  it  like 
Daddy  can.  (After  short  pause)  Once  upon  a 
time  there  was  a  Prince  Chap  .  .  and  he  lived  in  a 
big  city  named  New  York  ...  and  he  didn't  have 
any  money  .  .  and  he  was  poor.  He  made  little 
figures  out  of  clay  with  his  hands— like  Daddy  does 
— but  the  people  wouldn't  buy  'em,  and — and  it  hurt 
the  Prince  Chap.  .  .  And  then  he  met  a  Princess 
.  .  .  but  he  couldn't  stay  where  she  lived— er — 
'cause  he  was  poor.  So  he  went  away  to  seek  his 
fortune  .  .  .  and  Princess  Alice  she  cried  and  cried 
'cause  she  couldn't  go  with  him,  too  .  .  .  and  then 
he  got  on  a  big  ship  and  sailed  for  miles  and  miles 
and  miles  .  .  .  till  he  came  to  another  place.  .  . 
And  now  he's  still  makin'  his  little  figures  out  of 
clay  .  .  .  and  hopin'  to  get  back  home  again.  And 
we  pray  fcr  him — Daddy  and  me. 

ALICE.  (Wiping  her  eyes  as  CLAUDIA  pauses, 
and  speaking  gently)  Yes,  Claudia — go  on. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  53 

CLAUDIA.  That's  all.  Daddy  says  the  story  isn't 
finished  yet.  (  Goes  up  c. ) 

ALICE.  (Turning  her  head  away  and  speaking 
half  in  an  aside)  He's  right.  (Slowly)  The  story 
isn't  finished  yet—  (After  a  pause,  turning  abruptly) 
Did  your  father  teach  you  this? 

CLAUDIA.  (Comes  down  L.  of  table.  In  some 
astonishment  at  her  manner)  No.  I—I  just 
learned  it  when— when  he  would  tell  me.  Mamma 
used  to  tell  me  stories,  but— but  when  she  went 
away_er— Daddy  told  'em  to  me.  (At  L.  corner 
of  table) 

ALICE.     (Quickly)     Oh!  and  your  mamma  used 

to  live  here?  T 

CLAUDIA.  (Puzzled,  answering  sloivly)  1—1 
don't  know.  I  was  little,  then.  ^ 

ALICE.  Try  to  remember,  Claudia.  Your 
mamma  brought  you  here,  or 

CLAUDIA.     (Quickly)     Yes.    (Pointing  to  room 

at  rear)      She  was  ill— in  there  .  .  .  and  Daddy 

made' her  go  away  to  a  place  where  she  could  rest 

and  her  cough  wouldn't  hurt  her  any  more. 

ALICE.  (Speaking  with  suppressed  excitement) 
Yes,  yes,  and  then ? 

CLAUDIA.  (Sitting  sloivly  on  bench)  And  then 
God  got  sorry  for  her,  and — and  took  her  home 
with  him.  Daddy  told  me  so,  and  he  was  sorry,  too. 

(ALICE  rises  and  stands  in  silence,  looking  down  at 
CLAUDIA,  then  she  slowly  crosses  to  window 
and  stands  idly  gazing  out.  CLAUDIA  watches 
her  in  puzzled  wonder.  She  starts  several 
times  to  speak,  and  is  silent.) 

ALICE.  (Comes  down  R-  of  table.  Turns  sud 
denly)  And  do  you  know  who  I  am?  (As 
CLAUDIA  shakes  her  head,  ALICE  sits  on  bench  with 
CLAUDIA)  I  want  you  to  tell  me  ....  a  lot  of 
things.  /  am  Alice— the  Princess  Alice  who 


54  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

•   CLAUDIA.     (On  bench  with  ALICE—  gazing  at  her 

To  ffi^  Oh!  <CLAU-'  ft 

ALICE.    There,  there  _ 

them0?''  ^  ^  ^  When 
ALICE.    Of  course—  but 


CLA™?'      (Sh°Mng  her  head)     Oh,  no.     You 
are  not  the  Princess  Alice  _ 


C™  d°  yOU  think  Fm  not? 

CLAUDIA       (Backing  away   distrustfully)      Our 

IKS  Ahce  '6  and-// 


(PEYTON  is  heard  to  call  outside.) 
PEYTON.    Runion  !    Runion  ! 

(As  he  enters  from  R.  ALICE  has  turned  to  the  win 
dow  L.,  quickly,  on  hearing  PEYTON'S  voice 
and  PEYTON  does  not  see  her  on  entering.) 

CLAUDIA.  (Crosses  quickly  to  door  R.)  Daddy 
....  Princess  Alice  has  come! 

PEYTOX,  (Starting,  turning  and  seeing  ALICE) 
Alice  !  (She  comes  c.  He  runs  forward,  placina 
his  arms  about  her  and  kissing  her)  You  dear  ! 

(  RUNION  looks  on  in  open-mouthed  astonishment, 
CLAUDIA,  down  R.,  coldly.) 

ALICE.  (Releasing  herself  in  confusion.  Comes 
down  L.  of  table  c.)  Why,  Will  !  You—  you  are 
such  a  boy  !  Really  _  ! 

PEYTON.  (Coming  down  R.  of  table.  Steppinq 
backward,  a  note  of  disappointment  in  his  tone) 
But,  aren't—  aren't  you  glad  to  see  me? 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  55 

ALICE.  Yes,  yes — of  course — but — (Waving  her 
hand  in  the  direction  of  RUNION) — we  are  not 
alone,  Will. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Oh,  I  see !  But  five  years 
is  a  long  time  to  wait,  dear.  (Turning)  You  may 
go,  Runion.  Let  me  know  when  dinner  is  served. 
(To  ALICE)  We  have  waited  dinner  for  you,  and 
Claudia  is  going  to  sit  up  in  honor  of  the  occasion ! 

(Exit  RUNION.) 

ALICE,  (c.,  in  front  of  the  table)  Dinner? 
Well,  Will,  I — I  fear  it  will  be  quite  impossible. 
You  see  I  am  staying  with  Helen — Cousin  Helen, 
you  know — and  of  course  I  could  hardly  remain 
away  the  first  evening.  (Pause)  I  am  to  dine 
there  to-morrow,  and —  Don't  be  unreasonable.  I 
will  come  the  day  after,  perhaps,  or — or  the  next 
day. 

PEYTON.     (Dejectedly)     Yes — I  see. 

ALICE.  (With  an  effort  at  brightness)  But,  you 
haven't  asked  me  why  I  came.  (Sits  in  chair  L.  of 
table.  Speaking  rapidly)  Cousin  Helen  offered  me 
the  trip — to  spend  the  holidays  with  her.  She  sent 
me  the  money.  Wasn't  it  good  of  her?  I  barely 
had  time  to  tumble  a  few  things  into  my  trunk  and 
catch  the  steamer.  I  didn't  even  have  time  to  write 
to  you. 

PEYTON.  (Slowly,  dejectedly)  No — it  seems 
not.  (Pause)  You  came  alone? 

ALICE.  (Still  seated.  Slightly  confused)  Well, 
no — that  is — not  exactly.  There  were  quite  a  num 
ber  of  pleasant  people  on  board,  and — (Pausing, 
then  speaking  with  a  shade  of  defiance)  Besides, 
there  was  Mr.  Helmer. 

PEYTON.  (Looking  up  quickly)  Helmer!  Who 
is  he? 

ALICE.    A  very  dear  friend  of  mine — and  moth- 


56  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

er's.  He — he  lives  in  New  York.  I  have  known 
him  ever  so  long,  and  we  happened  to  cross  on  the 
same  steamer. 

PEYTON.  (Nodding)  I  see.  (Reflectively) 
Helmer!  .  .  I  don't  remember  your  having  men 
tioned  him  in  your  letters.  (After  marked  silence) 
Money  ? 

ALICE.  (Rises.  Resentfully)  That's  most  un 
kind  of  you,  Will. 

PEYTON.    (R.  c.)    I  didn't  mean  it  so.  ...  Well? 

ALICE.  (Strolling  down  L.)  Well,  at  any  rate, 
suppose  we  change  the  subject.  I  wired  you  last 
evening  from  Liverpool.  (Turns)  But  we 
changed  our  plans  and  came  on  an  earlier  train — 
the  express.  You  received  my  message,  of  course. 

PEYTON.  (Slowly)  Yes,  I  received  it  ...  half 
an  hour  ago.  (He  takes  the  crumpled  paper  from 
his  pocket)  It  must  have  been  .  .  .  delayed. 

ALICE.  (Biting  her  lips)  Why,  how  odd!  Oh, 
well,  it  doesn't  matter  now.  (Moves  to  c.)  I  will 
be  in  London  for  perhaps  two  weeks.  You — you 
have  Cousin  Helen's  address?  You  were  always  a 
favorite  with  her,  I  believe. 

PEYTON.  (Crosses  to  c.)  Alice^!  .  .  While  my 
servant  was  present,  there  was  some  excuse;  but 
now — when  we're  alone 

ALICE.     You  forget  Claudia. 

PEYTON.  (Starting)  Oh!  Oh,  yes — of  course! 
(He  steps  to  CLAUDIA,  who  ho,s  been  watching  si 
lently,  smiles  faintly  and  puts  his  hand  tenderly  on 
her  head)  Run  along  now,  Piggy,  like  a  good 
little  girl,  Daddy  will  call  you  presently.  (CLAUDIA, 
without  a  word,  walks  slowly  up  centre  and  exits. 
PEYTON  comes  to  R.  of  table.  Coming  toward 
ALICE  with  his  hands  outstretched)  Come  now, 
sweetheart.  .  .  (ALICE  sits  L.  of  table  R.,  as  if  to 
prevent  any  embrace)  what  is  it?  Tell  me.  .  .  Be 
open  .  .  and  square  ...  as  you  were  in  the  old 
days.  (She  allows  her  hand  to  remain  in  his,  but 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  57 

turns  her  head  away.  PEYTON  leans  against  the 
table)  Don't  you  know  I  have  loved  you — longed 
for  you — every  day — every  hour  .  .  .  since  I  saw 
you  standing  on  the  pier  .  .  and  lost  you  in  the 
mist?  .  .  .  (Still  she  is  silent)  If  only  you  knew 
how  we  have  talked  and  dreamed  of  you — Claudia 
and  I — how  we  built  our  castles  around  the  Princess 
— our  Princess  Alice  .  .  .  who  was  waiting  till 
/we  came. 

ALICE.  (Releasing  her  hand)  Yes — but 
Claudia ! 

PEYTON.      (In  wonder)    Claudia?    What  of  her? 

ALICE.  The  words  you  spoke  to  her  here — just 
now? 

PEYTON.     (More  mystified)     What  were  they? 

ALICE.  (Slowly)  Daddy  .  .  .  will  call  you  .  . 
presently.  What  did  they  mean  ? 

PEYTON.  (With  a  puzzled  frown)  Mean?  .  .  . 
•Why — that  I  would  call  her  presently — after 

ALICE.  (Rising  and  facing  him.  Sharpy)  Yes, 
yes — but — but — Daddy ! 

PEYTON.  (Looking  in  her  face,  then  speaking 
reproachfully)  Alice!  (Steps  back  in  astonish 
ment.  He  turns,  bows  his  head  and  slowly  crosses 
the  room.  ALICE  watches  him,  with  her  lips  com 
pressed) 

ALICE.  (Quickly)  Some  ugly  stones  have 
reached  me,  Will ;  stones  of  you  .  .  .  and  Claudia's 
mother.  I  tried  to  close  my  ears  to  them 'at  first. 
She  was  a  model,  I  believe.  (He  nods)  You 
helped  her  .  .  .  with  food — money 

PEYTON.  (Quietly)  Yes,  Alice,  I  helped  her 
...  I  did  more  ...  I  buried  her.  (Pause  in 
which  both  are  silent)  I  wrote  you  about  it  at 
the  time — the  woman's  pitiful  marriage  and  her 
death.  I  told  you  how  Claudia  came,  and  how, 
when  first  her  baby  lips  had  lisped  your  name,  I 
loved  her  .  .  for  your  sake,  Alice  .  .  .  and  for 


58  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

her's.  (Coming  to  ALICE'S  side)  Do  you  doubt 
me? 

ALICE.  (Looking  into  his  face  and  speaking 
coldly)  Yes,  Will  ...  I  doubt  you.  (PEYTON 
starts,  opens  his  lips  to  speak,  then  turns  silently 
away — up  R.)  You  have  said  she  was  not  your 
own 

PEYTON.  (Turns  from  up  R.)  What  more  do 
you  ask. 

ALICE.    Proof!    (Takes  a  step  to  R.) 

PEYTON.     I  will  give  you  any  proof  you  wish. 

ALICE.    Then  send  the  child  away. 

PEYTON.  (Sharply,  then  pitifully)  Send  Claudia 
away?  My  little  Claudia — why — surely  you  don't 
mean  that? 

ALICE.  I  meant  it,  Will — the  proof  of  your 
honor — the  proof  of  your  love  for  me. 

PEYTON.     (Lifting  his  head)     No!    Never! 

ALICE.     Not  even  for  me? 

PEYTON.    Not  even  .  .  .  for  you ! 

ALICE.    You  had  best  think  it  over,  Will. 

PEYTON.  (Calmly)  It  needs  no  thought.  If  a 
gift  from  God  is  mine  .  .  then  she  is  mine  ...  it 
needs  no  thought. 

(ALICE  crosses  to  door,  pauses,  takes  up  her  purse 
and  gloves  from  the  table,  and  crosses  to  R.) 

PEYTON.  (Intercepting  her  and  speaking  in  a 
hoarse  whisper)  You  will  leave  me,  then — like 
this! 

ALICE.     Yes,  I'm  going. 

(She  pauses  as  if  relenting,  when  once  more  PEY 
TON  steps  forward,  but  she  changes  her  mind 
swiftly.  She  passes  out,  leaving  PEYTON  star 
ing  dumbly  after  her.  After  a  moment 
CLAUDIA  enters  and  crosses  to  PEYTON'S  side.) 

CLAUDIA.     Has  she  gone,  Daddy? 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  59 

PEYTON.     (Feeling  for  her  hand  and  gazing  va 
cantly   at   the    open   door)      Yes,    dear  .  .  .  she's 

gone.  ...  , 

CLAUDIA.    But,  she'll  come  back  .  .  .  won  t  she, 

Daddy? 

PEYTON.    I  hope  so,  darling  ...  I  hope  so. 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  up  at  him)  I'm  not  sorry, 
Daddy,-— it's  nicer  to  have  you— just  by  yourself. 

CURTAIN    ON    SCENE   FIRST. 

SCENE  II  -.—Christmas  Eve  night,  four  days  after 
Scene  First.  The  room  is  as  before,  with  the 
exception  of  lights  which  are  burning,  and  a 
row  of  stockings  hung  at  the  fire-place. 
CLAUDIA  is  seated  in  the  middle  of  the  table, 
tying  up  a  large  package,  other  packages  and 
loose  papers  being  scattered  about  her.  RUN- 
ION  stands  at  her  side  holding  a  large  pair  of 
scissors  and  a  ball  of  string. 

CLAUDIA.  (Working  in  silence  at  the  bundle, 
pulling  and  turning  it  several  ways,  then  pausing  and 
looking  at  it  disgustedly)  Won't  you  help  me  with 
this  string,  Runion?  Every  time  I  think  I've  got  it 
tied,  it— it  just  slips! 

RUNION.  To  be  sure,  miss.  You  got  to  tie  a 
'orse  knot,  like  they  does  in  the  army. 

CLAUDIA-  A  horse  knot?  How  do  you  do  that? 
RUNION.  (Taking  bundle  and  string,  demon 
strating)  This  a-way.  Now,  'ere's  your  lead-strap 
—so.  Then  you  'oobles  your  'orse,  iches  is 
'eels'  to  'is  'ead,  an'  presto,  the  more  'e  kicks  the 
tighter  'e  ties  hisself.  (Knotting  string)  There 
you  are.  Couldn't  get  away  if  'e  tried.  (Regard 
ing  bundle  solemnly)  Er— wot  you  got  in  it,  Miss 

Claudia  ? 

CLAUDIA.     It's  the  secret  for  Daddy;  but  you 

won't  tell  him,  will  you? 


60  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

RUNION.  Me?  W'y,  Lor*  love  ye,  miss,  I 
wouldn't  let  on,  no  not  if  'e  pulls  me  teeth  out,  an* 
— an'  throws  'em  away. 

CLAUDIA.    And  do  you  think  he'll  like  it? 

RUNION-  Like  it!  Jus'  listen  at  that  now! 
W'y — (He  pauses,  listening,  with  his  scissors  ele 
vated  in  the  air) 

(PEYTON  enters  from  R.  CLAUDIA  throws  herself 
across  package,  covering  it  with  her  arms. ) 

CLAUDIA.     Don't  look,  Daddy.     Don't  you  look. 

PEYTON.  (Dejectedly,  as  he  crosses  to  easy- 
chair,  removes  his  coat  which  RUNION  takes,  and 
sinks  despondently  into  seat)  All  right — all  right 
— I  won't,  dear — not  a  peep. 

CLAUDIA.  (After  despositing  bundle  in  corner 
carefully  and  coming  back  to  other  bundles  on 
table)  Did  you  see  Princess  Alice,  Daddy? 

PEYTON-  (Sadly)  No,  Piggy.  .  .  She  had  gone 
out. 

CLAUDIA.     Who  did  she  go  with? 

PEYTON.  Mr.  Helmer.  (To  himself,  bitterly) 
Mister  Helmer!  (He  sits  in  silence.  CLAUDIA 
comes  to  his  side,  laying  her  cheek  against  his 
shoulder) 

CLAUDIA.  I'm  glad  you  came  home.  It's — it's 
lonesome  when  you  don't  come  home. 

PEYTON.  (With  a  caress  and  a  forced  smile) 
If  you're  glad,  then  I'm  glad.  It's  so  calm  and 
peaceful  here.  (A  wail  of  grief  is  heard  outside) 
Puckers ! 

(The  cries  groiv  nearer-  CLAUDIA  runs  to  door  at 
R.  and  opens  it,  as  PUCKERS  bursts  in.  She 
drops  her  shawl,  sinks  on  the  floor  R.  c.,  buries 
her  head  in  her  arms  and  sobs  bitterly.) 

CLAUDIA.  (At  door)  Oh,  what's  the  matter— 
what  is  the  matter  ? 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  61 

t 

RUNION.  (At  back  c.)  The  high-stericks,  sir, 
and  no  mistake ! 

PEYTON.  (Crossing  and  raising  PUCKERS  to  her 
feet)  Come  now,  Puckers,  what's  the  trouble? 
You  are  not  hurt,  are  you  ? 

PUCKERS.    N-n-n-n-o,  sir.     (Wails) 

PEYTON.  Well,  then,  what  is  it?  No  nonsense! 
Come  now ! 

PUCKERS-  (Accompanying  her  narrative  with 
sobs  and  gasps)  I  'ad  four  sivpences  wot  Mr.  Bal- 
lin'ton  gfve  me,  'cause  'e  said  as  'ow  'is  'eart  'urt  Jim 
for  a-throwin'  me  down  stairs — (Sobs) 

PEYTON.     Well,  well — go  on. 

PUCKERS.  An'  I  went  hout  for  to  buy  some 
Chris-mus  fixin's,  and  I  didn't  'ave  no  pockets  .  .  . 
and  me  'ands  was  cold  ...  an'  I  put  me  money  in 
me  mouth — (More  wails) 

PEYTON.  Yes,  yes ;  you  put  your  money  in  your 
siouth.  Well,  what  then? 

PUCKERS-  They  was  nice  new  sixpences,  Mr. 
Peyton,  sir  ...  an' — an'  I  seen  something  in  the 
winder  ....  an'  I  went  to  say  O— hi  an'— an'— 
an'  I  swallered  'em ! 

(RUNION  laughs,  PEYTON  smiles,  CLAUDIA,  sympa 
thetic  look  as  PUCKERS  wails  afresh.) 

PEYTON.  What!  You  swallowed  your  six 
pences?  All  of  'em? 

PUCKERS.  Yes,  sir;  hevery  bloomm  one!  An 
they  went  down  suddint,  sir,  like  rats  when  you 
'oiler  at  'em ! 

CLAUDIA.  Are  they  way  down  in  the  inside  ot 
you  now,  Puckers? 

RUNION-  (Steps  forward,  as  PUCKERS  nods 
miserably)  Awskin'  yer  pardon,  sir,  if  we  was  to 
stand  her  on  her  head  and  jounce  'er  same  as  a 
money  bank,  w'y 

PEYTON.     Runion!     Be  careful! 


62  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

RUNION.  (Steps  back)  Yes,  sir.  I'll  be  care 
ful,  sir.  (Makes  a  motion  as  though  to  take  hold 
of  her.  She  shrinks  back,  crying  in  fear) 

PEYTON.  (  Taking  PUCKERS'  chin  in  his  hand  and 
regarding  her  earnestly)  H'u'mJ  I'm  afraid 
they've  gone,  Puckers.  I'm  afraid  they've  gone. 

RUNION.  I  knowed  a  butler  wunst — big  strappin' 
feller  'e  was,  too — wot  bolted  a  brass  farthin', 
an' — (Solemnly)  An'  it  gangreened  'im! 

(PUCKERS  howls  afresh.) 

PEYTON.     (As  PUCKERS  begins  to  sob)    Runion! 

RUNION.  Yes,  sir.  'E  done  it  w'ilst  a-makin' 
change. 

PEYTON.  (Striving  to  comfort  her)  There — • 
they  won't  hurt  you,  my  dear — (She  looks  up  sud 
denly)  upon  my  word,  they  won't.  (Taking  money 
from  his  pocket)  Here's  a  nice  little  shilling  for 
you.  Now,  run  along  and  don't  worry  any  more. 
(Goes  to  fire-place  and  gazes  into  fire) 

PUCKERS.  (In  delight)  Ho,  thank  yer,  sir! 
(She  puts  the  shilling  unblushingly  into  a  hole  in 
the  side  of  her  stocking  and  begins  to  speak  ex 
citedly)  Them  winders  was  jus'  fine!  I  seen 
dolls  an'  cats  an'  animals  an'  everythink.  I  seen 
a  little  red  man  all  made  houter  tin,  wot,  w'en  yer 
wind  'im  hip  with  a  key,  'e  dances  all  aroun'  (Pi 
rouettes  about)  on  'is  'ead  an'  'is  'ands,  a-wavin' 
of  'is  'eels  on  Jigh. 

CLAUDIA-     (Breathlessly)     Oh,  did  you? 

PEYTON.  (Interrupting  PUCKERS  and  CLAUDIA) 
Here,  here,  here.  Now,  vamoose !  both  of  you. 
(Seating  himself  at  fire-place  L.)  Seems  to  me  I 
heard  sleigh-bells  a  while  ago.  Think  what  an 
awful  thing  it  would  be  if  Old  Santa  came  around 
and  found  you  sitting  up. 

CLAUDIA.  (Crossing  to  his  chair)  Did — did 
you  see  the  reindeers? 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  63 

PEYTON.  (Down  L.)  No,  but  I  think  I  heard 
'em  snort.  Better  scuttle  along  for  he  may  be  here 
any  minute. 

PUCKERS.  (Moves  to  c.  in  front  of  table)  Ho, 
Lud!  'E  might  be  a-skimmin'  down  that  chimney 
right  now. 

CLAUDIA.  (R.  of  PEYTON,  who  is  seated.  Glanc 
ing  at  the  fire-place  and  back  to  PEYTON)  And 
will  you  come  to  tell  me  good-night  .  .  .  and  hear 
my  prayers? 

PEYTON.  Yes,  in  ten  minutes.  (He  kisses  her) 
Hurry  now!  Puckers,  be  off  with  you!  (PUCKERS 
lingers,  locking  her  fingers  across  her  head  and 
swinging  one  foot  bashfully)  Well? 

PUCKERS.  I — I  wish't  I  'ad  somebody  kiss  me 
good-night.  I  don't  believe  nobody  done  it  yet,  sir. 

PEYTON.     (With  a  smile)     Is  that  really  true? 

PUCKERS.  Yes,  sir.  Ain't  'ad  a  smack — no,  not 
sence  I  was  a  crawler,  sir ! 

PEYTON.  (With  back  to  fire.  After  sitting  a 
moment  in  thought,  regarding  PUCKERS)  Claudia! 
...  Go  get  me  a  towel  with  a  wet  end. 

')(  CLAUDIA  gets  towel  as  requested,  from  RUNION. 
RUNION  at  back  R.,  looks  on  in  silent,  open- 
mouthed  wonder.) 

PUCKERS.    Wot — wot  you  goin'  to  do,  sir? 

(PEYTON  makes  no  answer,  but  takes  towel  from 
CLAUDIA,  crosses  to  c.,  then  he  seizes  PUCKERS 
and  begins  polishing  her  cheek  with  the  wet 
end  of  the  towel.) 

RUNION.  (After  PEYTON  kisses  PUCKERS' 
cheek)  Well! 

PEYTON.  (After  stooping  and  kissing  PUCKERS' 
cheek)  There!  Is  that  all  right? 

PUCKERS.    Yes,  s\r.    Er — er — thank  you,  sir. 


64  THE  PRINCE  CHAR 

PEYTON.  (Moves  beyond  c.  to  R.  With  a  smile 
and  a  bow)  Don't  mention  it. 

PUCKERS.  (Quickly)  Ho,  no,  sir.  I  won't  men 
tion  it  to  anybody,  sir!  (She  crosses  to  the  door, 
makes  sure  that  her  shilling  is  safe,  then  turns  as 
she  is  about  to  depart)  Good-night,  Miss  Claudy. 
'Appy  Chris'mus.  Good-night,  Mr.  Runion.  Good 
night,  Mr.  Peyton,  thank  yer,  sir.  You  better  tell 
Mr.  Santa  Claus  to  put  a  apple  in  me  stockin'  first, 
or  the  nuts  an'  razins  an'  things  will  come  a-tum- 
blin'  hout  of  the  'ole  in  the  toe.  (She  shuts  the 
door,  then  opens  it  again.  Turns  at  doorway. 
She  slams  the  door  R.  and  disappears.  She  is  heard 
descending  the  stairs) 

PEYTON.  (R.  c.,  RUNION  retreats  to  rear  at  L.) 
Now,  Piggy, — bed! 

CLAUDIA.  (Crossing  to  c.)  You  won't  look  at 
any  of  the  things  till  mornin',  will  you? 

PEYTON.  I?  Wouldn't  think  of  it.  Hurry  up, 
little  one. 

CLAUDIA.  (Closing  the  door  at  rear,  then  open 
ing  it  again — runs  to  RUNION,  who  is  up  L.)  Don't 
you  tell,  Runion !  Don't  you  tell ! 

RUNION.  (Calling  back)  No,  miss.  I  won't 
say  nothing!  (When  the  door  is  closed,  RUNION 
fastens  it;  he  turns  to  PEYTON)  Lor'  bless  her 
'eart,  sir ;  I  'opes  she'll  allers  be  'appy  same  as  she 
is  to-night,  sir.  I'd  give  a  'cap  to  make  it  that 
a- ways. 

PEYTON.  Thank  you,  Runion.  I  hope  so.  (Sigh 
ing  and  pressing  his  hands  over  his  eyes — comes  to 
c.)  Well  .  .  .  let's  get  it  over  as  soon  as  possible. 
I'm  tired  .  .  .  and  want  to  go  to  bed.  (They  go 
up  stage  R.,  and  concealed  by  a  curtain  or  draping 
bring  down  small  Christmas  tree  on  a  wooden 
stand.  This  they  place  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
then  PEYTON  sinks  dejectedly  into  his  chair  R.  of 
table)  Runion  .  .  .  we'lj  leave  that  thing  till  last. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  65 

just  bring  me  those  stockings,  will  you  .  .  .  and 
put  the  candy  and  nuts  over  here. 

RUNION.  (L.)  Very  good,  sir.  (He  gets  stock 
ings  from  mantel  and  places  boxes  and  bundles  on 
the  table,  beginning  to  open  them} 

PEYTON.  (Sorting  out  stockings)  Claudia's — • 
Puckers  (Bus.  with  PUCKERS'  stocking)  poor  little 
motherless  rat — and — (Holding  up  a  large  white 
sock)  What's  this  one,  Runion? 

RUNION.  (L.  of  table.  With  a  foolish  grin) 
Awskin'  your  pardon,  sir, — ha,  ha — it's  mine.  Miss 
Claudia  hexpressed  'erself  as  bein'  wishful,  sir,  that 
I,  too,  should  join  in  the  festivities. 

PEYTON.  (Nodding  and  smiling  sadly)  Oh, 
yes,  yes — of  course.  We'll  fill  'em  all  up,  Runion — 
and  make  her  day  as  happy  a  swe  can.  (PEYTON 
begins  filling  stocking,  pauses  in  reverie  and  lets 
his  hand  fall  to  his  side) 

RUNION.  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  you're  not  feelin' 
well  to-night. 

PEYTON.  No,  Runion  .  .  .  I'm  tired — out  of 
sorts — and  I  wish  it  was  all  over.  Christmas  isn't 
what  it  used  to  be  when  you  and  I  were  boys. 
There's  something  gone  out  of  it — broken  out  of  it. 

RUNION.  (Chewing  on  a  gum  drop)  Maybe,  sir, 
it's  jus'  because  you've  growed  up,  sir.  It'll  hap 
pen  to  all  of  us, — in  time — every  mother's  son  of 
us.  (Puts  candy  into  mouth  abstractedly) 

PEYTON.  (Nodding  miserably)  Maybe  so, 
Runion  ...  I  don't  know.  (KNOCK  off  R. — door 
knocker)  here  we  go!  Something  more  for 
Claudia,  I  dare  say.  Lucky  little  beggar!  (As 
RUNION  crosses  to  door  R.  he  speaks  with  a  smile) 
Hope  it  isn't  that  pony,  Runion.  You'll  have  to 
take  him  to  sleep  with  you! 

RUNION-  (Over  near  door.  Aghast)  A  pony, 
to  bed  with  me,  sir? 

PEYTON.  Don't  worry,  he  won't  come  till  morn 
ing.  You  needn't  be  alarmed. 


66  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

RUNION.    O — h!     (Exits  at  R.) 

PEYTON.  (Leaning  his  chin  on  his  hand)  Oh, 
Alice,  Alice,  how  different  you  could  have  made 
our  Christmas! — and  that  man  Helmer!  (He 
pauses)  Perhaps  when  he  has  gone — (The  half- 
filled  stocking  drops  to  the  floor)  Perhaps ! 

RUNION.  (Stands  R.  c.  Entering  with  two  bun- 
dies  in  his  arms)  For  Miss  Claudia,  sir — and  you. 

PEYTON.  (Rises  quickly.  Puzzled)  For  me? 
Why,  who  in  the  world! — Here,  let's  see  it.  (He 
rises  and  takes  the  tzvo  packages,  comes  to  back  of 
the  table  c.,  glancing  at  the  address  then  starts) 
Alice!  (With  a  look  of  happiness)  Why,  the  dear 
girl!  .  .  .  How  good  of  her  to  think  of — of 
Claudia ! 

RUNION.  Shall  I  put  them  with  the  other  things, 
sir? 

PEYTON.  (Handing  one  package)  Yes,  just  as 
well. 

RUNION.  (Holding  out  his  hand)  And  that  one, 
sir? 

PEYTON.  (Hesitating)  Well — er — well,  no, 
Runion.  (With  a  light  laugh)  Think  I'll  just — er 
• — just  keep  it  over  here  .  .  .  (RUNION  crosses  to 
back  at  L.)  where  I  can  see  it,  you  know.  (Patting 
the  box  and  shaking  it)  Sounds  heavy,  Runion! 
Heavy!  Ha,  ha — something  fine!  (Placing  it  on 
the  table)  There!  (RUNION  crosses  and  deposits 
CLAUDIA'S  bundle  near  mantel  L.)  Dear  old  Alice! 

She  hasn't  forgotten  us  after  all.  .  . 

(Happily)  I  think  it  will  be  all  right  now  ...  all 
right.  (Turning  jubilantly)  Now,  Runion,  my 
boy,  get  a  move  on!  Help  me  shovel  in  these  jim- 
cracks  and  things!  (Stuffing  hands  full  of  candy 
into  a  stocking)  Jolly  old  time,  Christmas, — isn't 
it? 

RUNION.  (Staring  at  him)  W'y,  sir,  arskin' 
your  pardon,  sir,  I  thought  you  said  as  'ow  you  was 
feelin'  a  bit  broke-uppish,  sir,  an* 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  67 

PEYTON.  Did  I?  (Laughing)  Well,  I  reckon 
it's  a  sort  of  passing  off.  Christmas  in  my  bones, 
Runion — Christmas  in  my  bones!  (LAUGHTER 
and  NOISE  outside  R.  by  BALLINGTON,  RODNEY, 
YADDER  and  FRITZ)  You  see — Hullo!  (The  doof 
opens  in  a  crack  and  BALLINGTON'S  head  appears) 

BALLINGTON.  (Sticks  head  in  door,  others  in  a 
group  behind)  Hi,  Billy!  Coast  clear? 

PEYTON,  (c.)  Come  in!  Come  in!  (More 
NOISE,  LAUGHTER,  etc.,  outside) 

BALLINGTON.  S-h-h-h!  (To  others)  Claudia 
gone  to  bed  yet? 

PEYTON.    Yes.    What's  the  row?    Come  in. 

(Enter  JACK  RODNEY,  BALLINGTON,  YADDER  and 
FRITZ.  They  are  arrayed  fantastically  in  studio 
toggery.  BALLINGTON  has  on  a  dressing-gown 
with  the  cords  and  tassels  tied  under  his  chin 
like  a  cravat,  a  feather  duster  stuffed  in  the 
back  of  his  collar.  YADDER  has  on  a  flowing 
Japanese  kimono  and  a  Turkish  fez.  FRITZ  is 
in  his  shirt  sleeves;  has  on  a  blue  checked 
apron,  and  a  beaver  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head, 
to  which  red  and  white  streamers  are  tied. 
JACK  is  in  simple  evening  dress  and  has  his 
arms  full  of  small  bundles.) 

PEYTON.  (Shaking  hands  all  around)  Hello, 
Jack!  Ballington!  Yadder!  Fritz,  how  are  you! 
(Laughing.  All  join  hands  with  PEYTON  in  c.  and 
dance  around  him  in  a  circle  twice,  singing  "  Come 
to  see  Miss  Jenny  a  Jones")  What's  this — bit  of 
a  spree  again? 

(They  surround  PEYTON  noisily,  all  striving  to  talk 
at  once.  At  end  of  dance,  all  are  in  sar:e  po 
sitions  as  at  beginning  except  FRITZ,  who  goes 
well  L.) 

YADDER.     (Pushing  the  others  apart)     Shut  up, 


68  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

you  chaps!  Let  the  Arch  Bishop  speak!  (Points 
to  JACK) 

ALL.     Speech!     Speech!  etc. 

BALLINGTON.  Silence  for  the  Arch  Bishop !  Go 
it,  Canterbury!  (Dusts  him  off  with  duster) 

YADDER.  (Clapping  his  hands)  Object  to  the 
name.  Call  him  cfe-canter-bury. 

(Laughter,  pushing,  and  cries  of  "Hear,  Hear!") 

JACK.  (L.  c.  Arm  full  of  bundle.  )  Oh,  see 
here,  you  fellows,  don't  be  such  beastly — ah — 
idiots!  (Turning  to  PEYTON)  You  see,  Billy — it 
isn't  anything  ...  to  call  for  a  speech,  or  any  such 
— er — nonsense,  you  know. 

ALL.    Hear!    Hear! 

JACK.  (Clearing  his  throat)  Fact  is,  Billy,  we 
chaps  in  the  studio — all  of  us,  you  understand — are 
in  love  with  .  .  little  Claudia.  Heels  over  head— 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  (Cries  iof  Hearr!  Hear!) 
Jolly  little  beggar!  Wanted  to — er — to  make  her 
Christmas  happy,  we  chaps;  and  so,  Billy,  we 
thought  we'd — er — bring  her  a  few  trifles,  you 
know  .  .  .  and — and — and — oh,  damn  it  all! — here 
you  are !  (He  dumps  bundles  on  the  table — BAL 
LINGTON,  YADDER  and  FRITZ  each  seise  a  light  chair 
astride  and  ride  around  once  in  a  circle  as  JACK  and 
PEYTON  stand  R.  and  L.  of  table  c.,  laughing,  while 
his  speech  is  received  with  whoops  of  delight  from 
the  others) 

PEYTON.  (After  the  business.  Faltering) 
Now,  look  here,  boys,  that's  clever  of  you — I  swear 
it  is.  When  you  are  good  to  Claudia,  you — you  hit 
me  here — in  the  heart.  I — I  really  don't  know  how 
to  thank  you  enough,  boys,  but — but — (Calling) 
Runion !  For  heaven's  sake  give  us  a  drink ! 

(RuNiON  has  tray  and  glasses  ready  up  L. — soda, 
siphon,  etc.) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  69 

BALLINGTON-  (Slapping  him  on  the  back) 
That's  the  way  to  put  out  gratitude,  my  son.  It 
(gives  us  a  chance  to  toss  it  off  and  be  done  with  it. 
(In  an  undertone)  But,  say,  Billy,  don't  let  us 
have  but  one.  Little  jamboree  up  stairs  in  my  den 
— bowl  of  hot  punch — want  you  to  come  up. 

PEYTON.     (Beaming)     Bully!     All  right. 

FRITZ.  (Advancing  to  c.  from  R.)  Ach  Gott, 
yah,  Pilly!  Him  ver'  fine  ponch.  I  mage  him. 
Yes? 

YADDER.  (Grinning)  You  see,  Peyton,  we  ran 
out  of  Jamaica  rum ;  so  Fritzy  is  spiking  the  stuff 
with  his  imported  accent.  (Knocking  off  the  Ger 
man's  beaver  hat  and  speaking  sternly)  Come 
here,  Gotterdamerung,  take  off  your  hat  and  tell  the 
the  gentlemen  how  to  make  a  punch! 

FRITZ.  (Beaming)  You  seetf  von  I  mage  dat 
punch,  I  haf  de  maderials  reatty  against  my  elpows:; 
den  I  asg  dat  somevun  sit  on  Yadder  and  stop  him 
dat  he  talk  so  much.  Den  I  migs  in  a  pan  zom 
r'rum  und  sooker  und  a  leedle  bit  varmoot  .  .  . 
vich  I  puts  den  on  de  fiar  .  .  und  leds  dem  simper. 

PEYTON.     Preparatory  to  taking  a  smile. 

FRITZ.  (Nodding)  Yah,  dot  iz  it.  Un  ven  dem 
is  simpered,  I  mage  chastizement  a  schpoon  mit, 
until  dem  iz  that  so  done.  Eh? 

PEYTON.  (Sits  on  arm  of  chair.  BALLINGTON 
leans  on  back)  Fritz,  it  makes  me  dizzy  just  to 
hear  about  it. 

FRITZ.  (R.  of  PEYTON,,  vastly  pleased)  So. 
Den  I  puds  in  de — de — how  you  calls  him? 

YADDER.  (Slaps  FRITZ  on  the  back  roughly — R. 
of  FRITZ)  Stuff. 

FRITZ.  Yah,  dot  iz  it.  I  puds  in  de  stuff  und 
migses  all  togedder  som  in  a  pig  powl. 

PEYTON-    In  a  what? 

BALLINGTON.  He  means  a  big  bowl — so  let  it 
pass. 

FRITZ.     (Nodding  and  smiling)     Yah.    Und  den 


70  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

I  migses  him  mit  finar  so  hot  like  hell,  und — (With 
a  sweeping  bow)  und  de  veast  iz  reatty. 

YADDER.  (  R.  Seizing  FRITZ'S  blue  check  apron 
and  pulling  it  over  his  head)  Oh,  let  us  draw  a 
veil  upon  this  foul  murder  of  a  Christian  tongue. 

JACK.  (L.  of  table.  As  the  two  scuffle  together) 
Oh,  I  say — Claudia  will  never  get  to  sleep.  (BAL- 
LINGTON  separates  them.  As  RUNION  places 
whiskey  and  glasses  on  the  table)  Here  we  are. 
All  up! 

(They  scramble  for  places  around  the  table,  while 
BALLINGTON  pours  from  the  decanter.) 

BALLING.  Only  one,  boys — remember  that — and 
then  we'll  help  old  Santa  Claus  fix  up  Claudia's  tree. 

OTHERS.    All  right.    All  right,  etc. 

JACK.    (Raising  his  glass)    To  Piggy — the  witch ! 

ALL.    Piggy!    Piggy!    Piggy! 

YADDER.  (Beginning  to  sing)  For  she's  a  jolly 
good  Pig-gy.  For  she's  a  jolly  good  Pig-gy. 

JACK-     Oh,  shut  up,  Yadder! — All  over! 

PEYTON.  (Softly)  Thank  you,  boys — thank  you. 
(Crosses  to  FRITZ,  who  is  R.) 

BALLING.  (Back  of  table  c.)  Now,  get  to  work, 
you  sappers,  and  clear  things  up  a  bit.  Here,  Run- 
ion,  take  away  that  horrible  temptation,  and — and 
swallow  some  yourself. 

RUNION.  Yes,  sir — thank  you,  sir — your  'ealth, 
sir.  (He  clears  the  table) 

JACK-  (Handing  out  stockings)  Here  you  are 
— candy — nuts — everything.  Get  to  work.  (They 
all  go  to  work  with  a  will.  PEYTON  gets  to  L.  for 
PUCKERS'  stocking,  some  filling  stockings,  others 
dressing  the  tree  with  tinsel,  candles,  silver  butter 
flies,  golden  beetles,  etc.) 

YADDER.    What  have  you  got,  Billy? 

PEYTON.        (Holding     up      stocking)        This? 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  71 

(Laughing)  Belongs  to  Her  Most  Smooty  High 
ness — Phoebe  Puckers — Empress  of  the  Coal  Bin. 
Long  may  she  wave !  Oh,  I  say,  boys,  let's  chip  in, 
and 

JACK-  Jolly!  (Taking  FRITZ'S  hat)  Here,  you 
chaps — a  shilling  all  round  for  Puckers. 

PEYTON.  (Remains  over  L.)  Good,  Jack! 
Good !  (As  JACK  passes  the  hat)  And  may  Santa 
Claus  blast  the  miser!  Shell  out!  Shell  out! 
(They  laughingly  deposit  money  in  the  hat  which 
JACK  passes  at  last  to  PEYTON) 

PEYTON.  (Adding  to  it,  putting  it  in  and  tying 
the  stocking)  There!  If  that  don't  make  your 
eyes  bulge,  then  I'm  a  Turk !  Here,  Runion !  Hang 
this  up  again,  will  you? 

RUNION.  (Taking  stocking}  Yes,  sir.  (He 
crosses  to  fire-place,  while  PEYTON  opens  a  box 
down  L.,  takes  out  a  large  wax  doll  and  holds  it 
up  admiringly.  RUNION  putting  hand  in  pocket 
and  atking  out  coin}  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  may  I 
also? 

PEYTON.  (Slapping  him  on  back)  Good  old 
Runion!  (The  others  cheer)  Aha!  How's  that, 
Vritzy?  Now,  isn't  she  a  royal  flush? 

(FRITZ  and  JACK  around  the  table.) 

FRITZ.     Och!     Gott!     Wunderschon! 

JACK-     (Crossing)    What  is  it  ...  Billy? 

PEYTON.  (Advancing  towards  them)  Doll  for 
Claudia — "  that  when  you  squeeze  her  in  the  stom 
ach  she  says,  "  w-a-n-n-nh !  "  (Squeezes  the  doll 
and  the  others  laugh.  As  others  laugh  PEYTON  re 
places  the  doll  in  its  box  do^vn  L.  .  BALLINGTON  is 
standing  on  a  chair  back  of  the  table  c.) 

YADDER.  (R.  of  table.  Taking  from  the  table  the 
box  which  ALICE  has  sent)  Hello!  What's  this? 

PEYTON.  (Crossing  to  L.  of  table  swiftly,  his 
hand  shooting  out  toward  the  box)  That's  mine! 


72  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

YADDER.  (Drawing  away)  Girl,  eh?  Oh,  you 
sly  old  rascal! 

FRITZ.  (Boisterously)  Obenhim!  Yah!  Yah! 
Oben  him!  Ve  see  vat  de  Fraulein  send!  Yah! 
Yah!  (YADDER  is  about  to  break  the  string,  when 
PEYTON  speaks  again,  quietly,  but  with  a  dangerous 
glitter  in  his  eye) 

PEYTON.    Yadder!    Don't  do  that! 

BALLINGTON-  (Laughing  and  jumping  from  the 
chair)  Open  it,  Yad.  I'll  hold  Billy.  (Puts  his 
arm  about  PEYTON) 

PEYTON.  (Wrenching  himself  free  and  turning 
on  YADDER  and  BALLINGTON)  Look  here,  boys,  my 
temper  isn't  easily  ruffled,  but  I  tell  you  once  for 
all — don't.  (He  looks  YADDER  in  the  eye.  YADDER 
hesitates,  then  replaces  the  box  on  the  table,  hold 
ing  out  his  hand) 

PEYTON.  (Smiling  and  pressing  his  hand)  I'll 
show  it  to  you  to-morrow,  boys — to-morrw. 

BALLINGTON.  I  say,  the  punch!  It's  getting 
cold! 

YADDER.  (Flinging  up  his  hands  in  mock  de 
spair)  Horrible!  The  punch  is  getting  cold!  To 
the  rescue !  (Runs  to  door  R.,  then  turns) 

JACK.  (Crosses  to  R.  As  he  crosses)  Coming, 
Billy? 

PEYTON.  (Front  of  table)  Yes,  I'll  be  there 
prensently — ten  minutes.  But  don't  wait. 

(The  visitors  cross  toward  the  door  at  R.) 

FRITZ.  (Going  to  door)  Him  ver'  good  punch! 
Bedder  com  quvick,  Pilly  poy,  Pilly  poy ! 

PEYTON.  (Calling)  I  will,  Vritzy,  I  will! 
(They  troop  out  noisily,  singing,  "  Tommy  Atkins" 
and  are  heard  clattering  up  the  stairs.  PEYTON 
crosses  to  door,  closes  it,  then  turns  to  RUNION) 
Jolly  old  crowd !  But,  Lord !  What  heads  they'll 
have  in  the  morning. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  73 

RUNION.  (At  fire-place  hanging  stockings,  etc.) 
Like  plum  puddings,  sir,  with  the  suet  sore. 

PEYTON.  (Crosses  back  to  table  to  ALICE'S  pres 
ent.  Laughing)  Exactly!  Now,  Runion,  sup 
pose  you  trot  along  to  bed.  I'll  finish  up  the  rest 
of  these  things  myself. 

RUNION.  (Hanging  up  the  last  stocking)  Very 
good,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir.  Good-night. 

PEYTON.  Better  unfasten  the  small  hall  door. 
(  RUNION  unfastens  door  c.  Following  him  up  R.) 
Merry  Christmas  to  you,  Runion,  Merry  Christ 
mas.  (Laughing)  Perhaps  we'll  put  something 
into  that  old  white  sock  of  yours  that  will  surprise 
you,  after  all.  (Laughing)  Good-night,  Runion! 
Good-night ! 

RUNION.  (Bowing  in  the  doorway)  Thank  you, 
sir.  Good-night.  (Exit) 

(PEYTON  listens  intently  for  a  moment,  then  crosses 
swiftly  to  the  table,  covering  ALICE'S  present 
with  both  his  hands.) 

PEYTON.  (R.  of  table)  Alice!  .  .  .  (He  holds 
the  box  to  his  breast,  gently  replaces  it  on  the  table, 
pats  it  with  his  hands,  then  begin  slowly  pacing  up 
and  down)  Wonder  what's  in  it,  anyway-  (Sits 
on  arm  of  chair)  Square  .  .  .  and  heavy!  .  .  . 
H'u'm !  .  .  I  know.  Silver  hair  brush !  (Picks  up 
package  and  shakes  it)  No!  Too  heavy  for  that! 
(Sets  it  down)  Now,  what  the  dickens ! — (Pauses, 
his  fingers  toying  with  the  string)  Promised 
Claudia — wouldn't  look  till  morning — not  till  morn 
ing.  (Sets  it  back.  He  edges  away  to  L.,  walk 
ing  around  table,  looking  at  package)  But,  she'd 

open     hers! — and' — er shaving     mug!       That's 

it!  Always  did  want  a  shaving  mug!  (Rubs 
chin)  Ha,  ha!  Wish  I  hadn't  promised 
Claudia.  .  .  (Starting  suddenly)  Why,  it  may 
need  an  answer,  (He  snatches  up  the  box)  Good 


74  THE  PRINCE  CHAR 

old  Alice!  (Setting  it  down  with  a  determined 
bang)  But  —  I  —  won't  —  open  —  that  —  box  — 
to-night!  H'u'm!  (Returns  to  fire-place.  Takes 
out  his  pocket  knife  and  springs  the  blade) 
Wouldn't  think  of  opening  it  .  .  to-night!  Said  I 
wouldn't — (Looks  behind  him  guiltily) — and  I 
won't.  (He  cuts  the  string,  then  stops  suddenly) 
But  just  one  peep — just  one — and  besides,  there 
might  be  a  note  in  it.  (Pulling  off  the  string  and 
the  wrapper)  That's  so  ...  I'm  perfectly  right 
in  opening  it — perfectly!  (As  he  moves  the  wrap 
per  a  note  slips  out,  falling  to  the  floor)  Aha! 
Just  knew  there  was  a  note  in  that  box!  (Nodding 
his  head  emphatically)  Now,  suppose  I  hadn't 
opened  it!  (He  seats  himself  in  an  easy-chair  R.  of 
table,  facing  the  audiance,  holding  the  box  in  his 
arm,  while  he  breaks  the  seal  of  the  note,  when 
CLAUDIA  is  heard  calling) 

CLAUDIA.     Daddy  ! Daddy ! 

PEYTON.  (Calling)  In  a  minute,  darling!  Just 
a  minute!  (Opening  the  note,  glancing  at  the  first 
line  and  smiling)  My  dear  Will!  (Presses  the 
note  to  his  lips)  Well — let's  see.  (Reading)  I 
send  two  packages ;  one  a  little  cloak  for  Claudia — 
(Looking  up  happily)  Ah!  Bless  her  heart;  Now, 
isn't  that  just  like  her!  (Reading) — a  cloak  for 
Claudia ;  yet  the  other  is  not  a  gift.  I  return  your 
own — which,  at  best,  must  be  the  saddest  of  sweet 
memories — your  letters  and  your  ring.  Alice  Hel- 
mer.  (Starting,  then  breaking  into  a  nervous 
laughQ  Why — why,  it's  some  trick — some — (Re 
turning  to  letter.  His  hand  sinks  to  his  side.  As 
he  rises  from  his  seat,  the  box  in  his  arm  tilts,  and 
his  letters  scatter  upon  the  floor.  For  an  instant  he 
gazes  at  them  numbly,  then  with  a  smothered  cry, 
he  sinks  into  his  seat.  In  this  scene  there  must  be 
no  outburst,  the  actor  showing  mutely  the  crushing 
blow  ivhich  has  bee  ndealt  him.  Still  holding  the 
empty  box,  he  sits  gazing  out  before  him,  his  eyes 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  75 

fixed  on  nothingness,  his  lips  moving  silently. 
CLAUDIA'S  face  appears  in  doorway  at  rear) 

CLAUDIA.  (Calling)  Daddy!  (No  answer. 
She  enters  in  her  night  dress  and  starts  to  advance, 
when  she  spies  the  Christmas  tree)  Oh!  Why, 
Daddy!  Has  he  come  already?  (No  answer) 
Daddy!  (PEYTON,  unconscious  of  her  presence, 
gazes  before  him.  CLAUDIA  crosses  to  his  side) 
You  didn't  come  to  tell  me  good-night  .  .  .  and 
hear  my  prayers.  Did — did  you  forget? 

PEYTON.  (Numbly)  Forget? No,  darl 
ing  ....  I'll  never  .  .  .  forget!  .... 

CLAUDIA.  (In  wonder  and  fear)  You  are  cry 
ing,  Daddy what's  the  matter? 

PEYTON.  Nothing,  darling — only — I  had  such  a 

pain — here  ....  where  my  heart used  to 

be!  (Bows  his  head.  CLAUDIA  puts  arms  around 
him) 

(A  peal  of  soft  toned  CHRISTMAS  CHIMES  is 
heard  in  the  distance.) 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  : — Sitting  room  in  MR.  PEYTON'S  apartments ; 
ten  years  after  close  of  Act  Second.  The  room 
is  furnished  simply  but  artistically;  rugs,  drap 
eries,  pictures,  bronzes  etc.  At  left  is  an  open 
fire-place,  before  which  is  a  large  easy-chair. 
At  R.  is  an  upright  piano.  At  centre  is  a 
settee  piled  with  cushions.  At  left  is  a  small 
table  upon  which  is  a  cigar  holder,  also  al 
cohol  lamp;  at  rear  right  another  small  table. 
Over  the  piano  hangs  a  large  picture  of 
CLAUDIA  in  an  oval  frame. 


26  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

Entrance  at  right  rear,  and  wide  doorway  at 
rear  centre  showing  four  steps  and  a  platform 
to  stairs,  also  passageway  leading  off  to  right. 
At  left  rear  is  a  window  hung  with  lace  cur 
tains. 

DISCOVERED: — RUNION  seated  in  an  easy  chair  be 
fore  the  fire.  He  is  nodding,  with  his  hands 
folded  across  his  stomach,  and  has  a  sealed  let 
ter  in  one  hand. 

PEYTON  enters  from  rear,  comes  to  RUNION, 
looks  down  upon  him  with  a  smile,  glances  at 
address  on  letter  and  takes  it  from  RUNION'S 
hand.  He  reads  letter,  folds  it,  then  turns  to 
RUNION. 

PEYTON  should  show  a  slight  increase  of  age  in 
make  up. 

PEYTON.  Ahem !  (As  RUNION  starts  up  in  con 
fusion)  Good  evening,  Runion.  I  trust  you  find 
the  chair  and  fire  conducive  to  comfort — peace? 

RUNION.  Er — yes  sir — that  is — I  mean  I  was 
a-waitin'  for  you,  sir.  A  letter  come  by  'and,  sir 
— and — (He  looks  about  and  begins  fumbling  in  his 
pockets) 

PEYTON.  (Tapping  letter  with  his  fingers,  and 
smiling)  Perhaps  this  is  it.  You  delivered  it 
while  asleep. 

RUNION.  (In  astonishment)  Delivered  it  w'ilst 
— O — h!  (Backing  away)  I — I  remember,  sir. 
Dooty  ....  'as  become  a  second  nature,  sir. 

PEYTON.  Yes,  I  see.  Tell  Claudia  I  am  here, 
will  you?  I  came  home  earlier  than  I  expected. 

RUNION.  Very  good,  sir.  (He  feels  in  his  inner 
coat  pocket,  glares  at  PEYTON  over  his  shoulder  and 
exits  at  rear) 

(PEYTON  stands  for  a  moment^  turns  and  looks  at 
CLAUDIA'S  picture,  with  his  hands  bMnd  his 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  77 

back.  He  turns  with  a  sigh,  crosses  slowly 
and  seats  himself  in  easy-chair  before  the  fire, 
re-reads  his  letter  and  falls  into  reverie. 
CLAUDIA  appears  on  stairway  at  rear.} 

CLAUDIA.  Daddy!  (As  PEYTON  starts  slightly, 
putting  the  letter  in  his  pocket,  she  trips  across  to 
him,  seats  herself  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  puts 
her  arms  about  his  neck)  Wasn't  the  club  attract 
ive  this  evening? 

PEYTON.  (With  a  smile)  Not  half  so  much  as 
home,  little  woman — not  half. 

CLAUDIA.  I'm  glad  of  that.  But,  tell  me — what 
is  it? 

PEYTON.     What's  what? 

CLAUDIA.  It  is  I  who  ask  the  question.  You  sat 
dreaming  ....  and  your  thoughts  were  not  happy, 
Dad. 

PEYTON.       Nonsense,  Piggy — nonsense! 

CLAUDIA.  (After  slight  pause)  Then,  too,  you 
had  a  letter,  and  when  I  came  in,  you  put  it  in  your 
pocket.  Was  it  something  you  didn't  wish  me  to 
see?  (As  PEYTON  smiles  and  shakes  his  head) 
Oho !  /  know  !  A  lady ! 

PEYTON.    (Rising)    Yes,  dear — a  lady. 

CLAUDIA.  (With  indrawn  breath)  Princess 
Alice? 

PEYTON.  No.  I  have  not  heard  from  Princess 
Alice  for  many  years  and,  perhaps  will  never  hear 
again.  (As  CLAUDIA'S  look  of  happiness  returns) 
But,  about  the  other  lady  I  wish  to  speak  with  you 
— seriously. 

CLAUDIA.  (Joyously)  Serious?  You  serious? 
Dad,  I  don't  believe  it. 

PEYTON.  (Slowly,  and  with  a  frown)  Claudia 
....  I'm  going  to  engage  ...  a  housekeeper. 

CLAUDIA.     (In  open  astonishment)     A  what? 

PEYTON.     A  housekeeper.     A  Mrs.  Partridge — 


78  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

middle   aged   and   most   respectable — to — er — look 
after  things,  you  know. 

CLAUDIA.    But,  Daddy  .  .  .  what  for? 
PEYTON.     (Hesitating)     Well,  you  see— it's  this 
way — (Taking  her  hand  tenderly)     You  have  your 
music    and    your    French    and — um — and    lots    of 
things  to  occupy  your  time ;  and  while 

CLAUDIA.  (Pouting)  And  you  are  dissatisfied 
with  me,  Dad?  Haven't  I  fixed  you  up  perfectly 
heavenly  little  dinners  and  mended  your  socks  and 
coddled  you  and  spoiled  you  and — Oh,  Daddy! 
(Pulls  her  hand  away  and  moves  to  centre) 

PEYTON.  (Following  her)  No,  no,  no — you 
don't  understand — you 

CLAUDIA.  (Flinging  up  her  hands)  And,  oh, 
Runion !  Won't  he  raise  a  rumpus  when  he  finds — 
(Imitating  RUNION'S  dismal  tone)  You've  gone  an' 
Jired  a  'ousekeeper  hover  'is  'ead?  (Drops  on  piano 
stool  and  plays  a  strain  of  "  There  is  a  Happy  Land 
Far,  Far  Away") 

PEYTON.  Now,  never  you  mind  about  Runion. 
I'll  manage  him.  (Sitting  on  settee  at  centre) 
I'm  only  thinking  of  you. 

CLAUDIA.  (Turning  on  stool  and  facing  him) 
Well,  that  part  is  easy  enough.  I  won't  have  her! 

PEYTON.    Claudia ! 

CLAUDIA.  No,  it's  no  use  urging,  Dad,  I  just 
won't.  She'd  have  a  huge  feather  duster  and  a 
long  red  nose  and— Daddy,  look  me  in  the  eye  I 
Hasn't  she  a  long  red  nose? 

PEYTON.  But,  Piggy,  my  dear.  I  haven't  even 
seen  her  yet.  If  you'd  only  listen 

CLAUDIA.  No,  wait!  Wait!  (She  runs  to  table 
at  left  rear,  returns  with  a  cigar  and  a  lighted  spirit 
lamp,  handing  him  the  cigar)  Light  that,  please- 
quick. 

PEYTON.  Thank  you.  (After  lighting  cigar 
meekly  and  turning  to  CLAUDIA,  who  has  crossed  to 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  79 

replace  the  spirit  lamp )  And,  may  I  inquire  into  the 
reason  of  this  donation? 

CLAUDIA.  Certainly.  (Returning  to  settee) 
You  are  always  in  a  better  humor  when  you  smoke, 
and  I  can  manage  you  better  when  you  are  in  a  bet 
ter  humor.  (Flinging  her  arms  about  his  neck,  lay 
ing  her  cheek  against  his,  and  speaking  in  the  old, 
childish,  wheedling  tone)  We  don't  want  any  red 
nosed  housekeeper — do  we? 

PEYTON.  (Tenderly)  Oh,  Piggy,  Piggy,  what  is 
the  use  of  parental  armor  when  the  child  knows 
every  crevice?  (Removing  her  arms  from  his  neck 
and  speaking  earnestly)  But,  come,  dear,  I  am 
serious.  You  will  listen? 

CLAUDIA.  Why,  yes,  Dad — of  course.  (Seats 
herself  beside  him) 

PEYTON.  Think,  Claudia,  you  are  no  longer  a 
child — but  a  woman.  In — let  me  see — in  about 
three  weeks  we  will  place  just  nineteen  candles 
around  your  birthday  cake. 

CLAUDIA.  (With  a  mock  sigh)  Yes,  Daddy 
....  I'm  an  old  maid! 

PEYTON.  (Paying  no  heed  to  her  tone  of  banter) 
You  are  living  here — with  me — er — practically 
alone 

CLAUDIA.     (Quickly)     There's  Mary. 

PEYTON.    — and  you  see 

CLAUDIA.  Well,  I've  lived  so  for  thirteen  years. 
Why  should  I  not  go  on  ? 

PEYTON.  Because  you  are  a  woman,  Claudia. 
Don't  you  understand? 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  him  squarely  in  the  eye) 
No,  Dad,  I  don't ! 

PEYTON.  (After  pause)  And,  don't  you  know 
that  there  are  people  in  this  world  who  have  a  way 
of  saying  unkind  things — brutal  things? 

CLAUDIA.  And  what  do  we  care  what  other  peo 
ple  say?  We  don't  say  unkind  or  brutal  things. 

PEYTON.     (Gently)     No,  dear,  but  it  is  because 


8o  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

of  these  other  people  that  I  wish  to  have  some  other 
woman  in  our  home — near  you — with  you.  (He 
pauses,  and  CLAUDIA  knits  her  brows  in  thought, 
then  turns  to  him  openly  and  in  wonder) 

CLAUDIA.  But— but,  Daddy  .  .  .  WHY?  (PEY 
TON  ponders  a  moment,  rises  and  paces  to  R.  in 
thought.  As  he  reaches  the  piano  his  eye  falls  upon 
a  book.  He  touches  it  lightly,  then  turns  to 
CLAUDIA) 

PEYTON.  My  dear  ...  I  wish  you  would  read 
this  book.  It  isn't  much  of  a  story  to  be  sure,  but 
— but  perhaps  it  will  help  you  to  understand.  (He 
crosses,  standing  in  rear  of  the  settee.  CLAUDIA, 
who  has  been  watching  him,  rises  and  crosses  to 
piano.  She  looks  at  book,  then  turns,  speaking  care 
lessly) 

CLAUDIA.  Why,  I've  read  that  book.  (Pause) 
It's  a  horrid  story.  (Looking  up  with  a  light  laugh) 
Why,  surely,  Dad,  you  don't  mean  to  say — (She 
pauses,  abruptly  noting  his  silent  mien  and  averted 
face,  then  speaks  again  in  dawning  fear)  You 
don't  mean  ....  that  they  would  say  .... 
(Turning  slowly  away  as  she  understands)  Oh 
.  .  .  .  Daddy!  (The  strained  silence  is  broken  by 
the  entrance  of  RUNION  at  rear.  He  is  about  to 
to  speak,  when  he  stops  suddenly,  shaking  with  sup 
pressed  amusement) 

PEYTON.  (Speaking  with  a  shade  of  severity) 
Well,  Runion?  What  does  this  mean? 

RUNION.  (Striving  to  hold  himself  in  check) 
Nothink,  sir — only — (He  bursts  into  a  laugh,  which 
he  checks  by  stuffing  a  fold  of  a  portiere  into  his 
mouth) 

PEYTON.  (More  severely)  Runion!  What's  the 
matter  with  you ! 

RUNION.  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but — but — (Splutter 
ing)  it's  P-P-Puckers,  sir!  (Again  he  stuffs  porti- 
fre  into  his  mouth) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  81 

PEYTON.  What!  Phoebe?  (Laughing)  Oh,  I 
see.  Well,  show  her  in,  by  all  means. 

CLAUDIA.  (Turning  from  where  she  has  stood 
silent  at  R.,  as  RUNION  exits  quickly)  Yes,  do. 
(To  PEYTON)  Why,  we  haven'f  seen  her  for  five 
years.  Think  of  it ! 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  And,  by  the  way,  I  for 
got  to  tell  you.  I  met  Ballington— in  the  Park  this 
afternoon — wonderfully  sober  he  was,  too^told  me 
that  Puckers  was  in  town  .  .  .  and  had  joined  a 
circus. 

CLAUDIA.    A  circus? 

PEYTON.  (Nodding)  Um-hum — A  real,  live, 
glittering,  three-ringed  affair.  We'll  have  to  see  it. 
(Turning)  Ah! 

(Enter  PUCKERS  from  rear.  She  is  attired  in^  the 
costume  of  a  Cheap  side  belle,  topped  off  with  a 
gorgeously  flowered  hat,  which  is  continually 
^sliding  over  one  ear.  She  carries  a  small  hand 
bag,  and  wears  black  half -mitts,  a  cheap  hand 
kerchief  being  pinned  to  the  back  of  one  of 
them.  She  advances  with  little  bobbing  curt 
seys.) 

And  it's  Puckers  in  the  flesh. 

PUCKERS.  W'y,  Mr.  Peyton,  'ow  do  you  do?  I 
just  come  as  soon  as  I  could  to  see  you  an' — (Turn 
ing  as  she  catches  sight  of  CLAUDIA)  Miss  Claudy! 
(She  runs  forward  as  if  to  take  CLAUDIA  in  her 
arms,  and  pauses  abruptly  in  confusion)  O — h! 

CLAUDIA.  (Laughing,  as  she  takes  PUCKER'S 
hands  cordially)  Why,  Puckers!  Is  it  you!  How 
good  of  you  to  come  to  see  us — really.  (Leading 
her  toward  settee)  And  this  is  our  Phoebe  of  the 
studios.  I  just  can't  believe  it. 

PUCKERS.  No  more  can  I,  miss — you  a  growed 
hup  young  loidy,  and  as  Mr.  Runion  says,  with 
five  young  men  a-sparkir»'  **$  you. 


82  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

(RUNION,  who  is  peeping  through  curtains,  shakes 
his  finger  and  disappears  suddenly.  He  ap 
pears  and  disappears  all  through  this  scene.) 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Have  a  seat,  Puckers — 
won't  you  ? 

PUCKERS.  Thank  you,  sir.  (Seating  herself  on 
the  extreme  edge  of  settee)  But,  I  ain't  got  but  a 
minute,  sir.  (Adjusting  her  hat  complacently) 
Piffessinals  is  rushed — just  awful. 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  And  so  you've  joined  a 
circus.  I  believe  "  tumbling  "  used  to  be  your  spec 
ialty.  Still  at  it? 

PUCKERS.  No,  no,  sir,  but  I'm  hunderstudy  to 
Mam'selle  Peachay — 'er  as  rides  bare-back,  you 
know  and  'ops  through  'oops. 

CLAUDIA.     Ma'am'selle  who? 

PUCKERS.  Peechay.  That  means  peach  in  the 
French  langwitch,  Miss. 

PEYTON.  It's  great.  We'll  come  to  see  you  .  .  . 
when  the  steam  caliope  drowns  the  roaring  of  the 
lions — when  Phoebe  Puckers  leaps  upon  a  snorting 
steed,  careers  around  the  ring — the  brass  band  toot 
ing,  and  the  multitudes  gone  mad  with  thunders  of 
applause. 

PUCKERS.  (Clapping  her  hands  rapturously) 
Yes,  sir. 

CLAUDIA.    And,  do  you  really  love  the  life? 

PUCKERS.  I  loves  it  in  the  day  time,  but  I  ain't 
so  keen  about  it  of  nights.  W'y,  I  never  knows  wot 
minute  a  tagger  or  a  'ienna  or  somethink  will  get 
a-loost  and  come  a-jumpin'  in  me  bed. 

CLAUDIA.     It's  terrible. 

PUCKERS.  Yes'm.  I  tried  to  get  a  iron  cage  wot 
belonged  to  a  lion  afore  'e  died,  but  the  clown  'e 
got  it  first.  'E  says  as  'ow  sleepin*  restless  affecks 
'is  jokes. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  I  dare  say  it  might, 
Well,  why  not  settle  it  by  marrying  the  clown. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  83 

PUCKERS.  Ho,  Lud,  Mr.  Peyton,  sir,  I  can't  do 
that.  (Faltering  bashfully)  I'm  goin'  to  marry 
another  man  sir ! 

CLAUDIA  and  PEYTON.    WHAT ! 

(PUCKERS  starts,  slips  from  the  settee,  and  takes  a 
seat  on  the  rug.  PEYTON  on  one  side  and 
CLAUDIA  on  the  other  assist  her  in  rising.  She 
sits  again,  adjusting  her  hat.) 

PUCKERS.  Thank  you,  sir.  You— you  spoke  so 
suddint.  (Turning)  Yes,  Miss  Claudy,  I'm  going 
to  be  married.  That's  w'y  I  come,  Miss,  to  ast  you 
to  the  weddin'.  (She  fishes  a  much  soiled  envelope 
from  her  bag,  handing  it  to  CLAUDIA)  It's  an  in 
vite,  that's  wot  it  is.  We  'ad  so  many  buzzom 
friends  that  them  'ere  cards  they  wouldn't  go  round, 
so  I  shows  'em  an'  passes  'em  along. 

CLAUDIA.  (Glancing  at  card,  then  offering  her 
hand)  Why,  Puckers.  It's  perfectly  splendid!  A 
hundred  congratulations. 

Always  said  you'd  come  out  strong  on  matrimony. 
Who's  the  lucky  chap? 

PUCKERS.     (Proudly)    A  hartist,  sir. 

PEYTON.     An  artist!     Bully!     What's  his  line? 

PUCKERS.    'E's  a  arry-nort,  sir. 

CLAUDIA.    A  what? 

PUCKERS.  A  arry-nort.  A  hartist  wot  goes  hup 
in  a  fca/-loon,  an'  cornes  a-floatin'  down  in  a  parrot- 
shoot. 

PEYTON.    Ah,  I  see.    An  aeronaut. 

PUCKERS.  Yes,  sir.  (Turning)  An*  say,  Vs 
awful  'andsome.  Pink  legs,  all  over  spangles  (De 
claiming)  wot,  flashin',  glistenses  in  the  sun  of 
Gawd's  gloryis  rays.  (Starting,  as  PEYTON  looks  up 
in  surprise)  It — it  says  that  on  'is  bill. 

PEYTON.  (Smiling)  Oh,  yes,  of  course.  (Tak 
ing  card  from  CLAUDIA)  And  what^  may  I  ask,  is 
the  daring  gentleman's  namfi? 


84  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

PUCKERS.  They  calls  'im  the  Seenyou  Mally- 
gancy,  but  'is  right  name  is  'Arry  Swivers.  (To 
CLAUDIA,  with  a  look  of  pride)  Me  an'  'im  met  at 
the  cirkis,  Miss,  an'  loved  at  sight. 

CLAUDIA.  How  deliciously  romantic.  (Doubt 
fully)  But — but  don't  you  find  his  profession  a 
trifle — er — risky  ? 

PUCKERS.  Yes'm,  that  I  do.  W'y,  Miss  Claudia, 
w'en  I  walks  on  the  street  I  daresn't  look  hup  in 
the  helements  for  fear  of  seein'  my  own  fyancy 
come  a-plungin'  down  on  the  top  of  me  'ead.  Talk 
about  'avin'  lovers  throwed  at  you.  My  Gawd ! 

PEYTON.  Well,  Puckers,  let  us  hope  that  there 
will  be  no  accidents  to  the  Senor,  and  that  the 
Senora  Maliganzi  will  be  happy  always. 

CLAUDIA.  (As  PUCKERS  backs  away)  Won't 
you  have  some,  tea  and  cake  before  you  go? 

PUCKERS.  No,  no,  thank  you;  I've  hardly  got 
the  time.  (Taking  card  which  PEYTON  hands  her) 
You'll  come  to  the  wedding,  won't  you  ? 

CLAUDIA.    We  wouldn't  miss  it  for  the  world. 

PEYTON.  And,  we'll  remember  the  wedding 
presents,  too. 

PUCKERS.  Ho,  thank  you,  sir.  Thank  both  of 
you.  (Pausing)  I'm  very  'appy,  sir.  I  think  I'd 
rather  be  the  Seenyoura  Malygancy  than — than 
the  Venus  de  Medicine.  (With  a  series  of  little 
bobbing  curtseys)  Good-bye.  Good-bye.  Good 
bye.  (She  adjusts  her  hat  and  exits  at  rear.  PEY 
TON  crosses  to  fire-place,  while  CLAUDIA  goes  to 
rear,  looking  after  PUCKERS.  In  a  moment  she 
turns) 

CLAUDIA.    Wasn't  she  funny,  Dad? 

PEYTON.  Yes;  but  without  her  scuttle  and  her 
smutty  face,  gracious,  what  an  evolution. 

(RUNION  enters  from  rear,  with  card  tray.) 
CLAUDIA.    Well,  Runion? 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  85 

RUNION.  A  lady,  miss.  (Extending  tray  toward 
PEYTON,  who  is  nearest  him)  She  awsked  for  you, 
sir,  and  Miss  Claudia. 

PEYTON.  (Taking  the  mourning  card  from  tray, 
glancing  a  tthe  name  with  a  slight  start,  then  letting 
his  hand  sink  slowly  to  his  side)  You  may  show 
her  in,  Runion.  (Exit  RUNION  at  rear,  while  PEY 
TON  stands  in  thought) 

CLAUDIA.    Who  is  it,  Daddy? 

(PEYTON  silently  hands  her  the  card,  then  walks  to 
rear.) 

CLAUDIA.  (Starting,  as  she  reads  name) 
Mourning!  ....  For  whom? 

RUNION.     (Announcing)     Mrs.  'Elmer! 

(Enter  MRS.  HELMER,  attired  in  mourning,  but  with 
her  veil  drawn  aside.) 

ALICE.     (With  outstretched  hands)     Will! 

PEYTON.  (Meeting  her,  but  without  marked  en 
thusiasm)  Why,  Alice!  This  is  indeed  a  surprise. 

ALICE.    And  a  pleasure,  may  I  hope? 

PEYTON.    I'm  glad  to  see  you. 

ALICE.  How  dear  of  you.  ( Turning)  And  this 
is  Claudia!  I  dare  say  you  don't  remember  me, 
for  you  were  quite  a  little  girl  when  I  saw  you  last. 

CLAUDIA.  (Shaking  hands)  Oh,  yes,  Mrs.  Hel- 
mer,  I  remember  you  very  well. 

ALICE.  Thank  you,  Claudia.  (As  she  returns  to 
centre.  Sitting  on  settee)  And  you  don't  know 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Will— to  see  you  so 
happy,  so  prosperous,  in  this  ideal  home  of  yours. 
(With  a  smiling  glance  at  CLAUDIA)  You  should 
indeed  be  proud  of  it. 

PEYTON.  Proud  of  it?  I  am.  (Crossing  and 
placing  his  arm  about  CLAUDIA,  who  nestles  up  to 


86  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

him)  And  this  little  woman  has  made  it  what  it  is 
— an  oasis  in  the  desert. 

ALICE.  (Lightly)  How  charmingly  poetical! 
An  oasis !  Then  may  a  wanderer  hope  that  one  of 
your  many  springs  spouts  tea?  For,  really,  I  am 
famished  fr  a  cup.  In  Genoa  the  tea  is  vile. 

PEYTON.  Why,  with  pleasure.  (Starts  toward 
R.,  when  CLAUDIA  intercepts  him) 

CLAUDIA.    Let  me  get  it,  Daddy. 

ALICE.  (Protesting)  No,  no,  no — don't  trouble, 
my  dear,  I  beg  of  you. 

CLAUDIA.  (With  formal  inclination  of  her  head) 
It  is  none,  I  assure  you. 

(As  ALICE  crosses  and  sinks  into  easy  chair  at  L., 
CLAUDIA  goes  to  R.  rear.  At  the  door  she  turns t 
looks  back  unhappily,  and  exits.) 

ALICE.    And  she  calls  you  Daddy  .  .  .  still? 

PEYTON.    Yes.    Why  not? 

ALICE.  (With  a  light  laugh)  Oh,  nothing!  I 
was  merely  curious  to  know.  It  was  always  a  fault 
of  mine,  this  curiosity.  (With  a  change  of  tone) 
I  have  just  arrived  from  Genoa.  Delightful  climate 
— perfectly  delightful.  (Glancing  up)  Do  you 
think  it  has  agreed  with  me? 

PEYTON.  Yes — yes — of  course — but — (Glancing 
at  her  mourning  weeds)  Pardon  me — you 

ALICE.    Yes,  Will,  he  died  nearly  a  year  ago. 

PEYTON.  Oh!  I— I  hadn't  heard.  (Pause) 
There  is  little  one  may  say 

ALICE.  (Interrupting)  There — don't  waste 
your  sympathy.  I  never  really  loved  him.  (Rising 
as  PEYTON  turns  away)  Come  now — tell  me  about 
yourself. 

PEYTON.  (Rather  nervously)  Well — there  is 
very  little  to  tell.  I've  been  moving  along — er — in 
the  same  old  way 

ALICE.     (Laughing)     How  deliciously  modest* 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  87 

Ah,  I  have  followed  the  sculptor's  flight  to  fame. 
Success  in  your  profession.  The  whole  of  London 
scrambling  for  your  work.  Really,  Will,  I'm  proud 
to  be  of  the  same  country  with  you.  (Pause,  then 
glancing  up)  Still  a  bachelor? 

PEYTON.  Er — thus  far — guilty.  But,  you  see, 
I've  been  so  busy  with  my  work — and — with 
Claudia's  education — that  I've  had  very  little  oppor 
tunity  to  mingle — so  to  speak — among 

ALICE.  (Merrily)  How  utterly  absurd!  Why, 
you  haven't  changed  one  bit  in  the  last  ten  years. 
(As  PEYTON  endeavors  to  protest)  Now,  don't  put 
on  a  long  face  and  tell  me  that  a  man  loves  but 
once.  (As  PEYTON  again  tries  to  protest)  What! 
Surely  you  don't  want  me  to  believe  that  just  be 
cause  an  impulsive  young  gentleman  elects  to  mis 
understand  an  equally  impulsive  girl 

PEYTON.     (In  astonishment)     Misunderstand? 

ALICE.  Of  course!  .  .  .  You  treated  me  very 
badly,  Will. 

PEYTON.     (In  blank  amazement)     I? 

ALICE.  (Coolly)  You  did  ...  But  I  forgave 
you  long  ago.  (Abruptly)  By  the  way,  what  a 
dear,  sweet  child  Claudia  is.  (As  PEYTON  turns 
involuntarily  toward  CLAUDIA'S  picture)  Does  she 
know  why  I  ...  broke  with  you  ? 

PEYTON.  No.  I  have  tried  to  spare  her  every 
sorrow  possible. 

ALICE.  Will  .  .  .  you  chose  between  Claudia 
and  me — giving  her  a  love  that  was  rightly  mine 
.  .  .  You 

PEYTON.    Alice ! 

ALICE.  But,  if  misfortune  has  come  to  both  of 
us,  am  /  to  blame?  If  you  have  suffered  in  silence 
for  the  past  ten  years,  was  it  not  Claudia  who  made 
it  so? 

PEYTON.  (With  a  sigh  of  impatience)  Say 
what  you  will  of  me — (Turning  again  toward 


88  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

CLAUDIA'S  picture) — but,  of  Claudia  .  .  .  No! 
(Turning)  Let's  talk  of  something  else. 

ALICE.  (With  a  change  of  tone)  I'm  sorry, 
Will  .  .  but  some  day — perhaps?  (Pause)  I'm 
going  back  to  America.  (Pause)  I  sail  day  after 
to-morrow.  (With  a  sigh  she  crosses  to  him,  lay 
ing  her  hand  on  his  arm)  Ah,  Will,  the  fault  was 
not  all  mine.  They  wanted  me  to  marry  money — 
money!  They  urged  me — harried  me — poisoned  my 
mind  against  you.  They  told  me  that  Claudia  was 
your  own  .  .  .  and  when  I  saw  how  you  loved  the 
child,  I,  too,  believed. 

PEYTON.  No,  Alice.  In  your  heart  you  knew  I 
spoke  the  truth. 

ALICE.  And  was  there  no  suffering  for  me  ?  Did 
I  not  learn  to  hate  the  very  name  of  Helmer?  when 
the  memory  of  another  came  between  us  always? 
(Tenderly)  The  memory  of  a  Prince  Chap  who 
had  waited — waited 

PEYTON.  (Wheeling  about)  And  in  vain. 
(After  pause,  in  changed  tone)  You  tell  me  you 
have  suffered.  I  believe  it  ...  and  I  am  sorry 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart ;  but  the  dead  man  is 
not  alone  responsible. 

ALICE.  (With  a  sigh)  Perhaps  your  reproach 
is  just.  My  defense  would  be  idle.  And  yet  .  .  if 
you  can  find  forgiveness  in  your  heart — forgive. 

PEYTON.  (Stretching  out  his  hand)  Yes,  Alice 
— Freely,  and  without  the  stain  of  bitterness. 

ALICE.  Then,  good-bye,  dear.  .  .  My  memories 
of  you  .  .  .  will  be  the  happiest  of  my  life.  Good 
bye. 

PEYTON.  (Taking  her  hand)  Good-bye,  Alice. 
...  I  wish  you  luck — always.  (As  they  cross  to 
rear)  You — you  have  a  taxi 

ALICE.  Well,  no.  I— I  dismissed  it.  (Smiling) 
But  it  doesn't  matter — really.  The  hotel  is  only  a 
step.  (Glancing  out  of  window)  Dear  me,  how 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  89 

dark   it  has  grown.      (Turning)      Would— would 
you  mind ? 

PEYTON.  I  will  see  you  over— with  pleasure. 
(She  smiles  at  him  and  exits,  PEYTON  following 
meekly.  In  a  moment  CLAUDIA  enters  from  R.  with 
tea  tray,  which  she  sets  on  the  table.  _  She  looks  up 
in  astonishment  to  find  herself  alone ', 'listens  as  she 
hears  the  front  door  close,  then  crosses  to  window) 

CLAUDIA.  (Advancing,  then  pausing  in  troubled 
thought)  How  strange!  I  wonder  ....  if  she 
really  wanted..  .  .  that  tea!  (She  goes  slowly 
toward  fire-place,  picks  up  MRS.  HELMER'S  card, 
and  looks  at  it  sadly)  She's  free!  ....  Free! 
(Drops  the  card  and  sinks  into  chair)  And  Daddy 
has  gone  with  her  ...  and  never  a  word  .  .  .  to 
me.  (She  turns  to  fire,  covering ^  her  eyes  with  her 
handkerchief.  Enter  RUNION,  with  a  look  of  gloom, 
carrying  coal-scuttle  in  his  arms.  He  glances  at 
CLAUDIA  and  clears  his  throat,  but  she  pays  no 
heed.  Presently  he  drops  shovel  on  the  floor  de 
liberately) 

CLAUDIA.     (Starting)     Runion!    Do  be  careful! 

RUNION.  Hexcuse  me,  miss,  for  a-causin'  you 
to  jump.  It — it  slipped. 

(CLAUDIA  once  more  begins  looking  into  the  fire. 
RUNION  deposits  the  scuttle  by  the  hearth, 
brushes  his  hands  on  his  trousers  and  turns  to 
her.) 

RUNION.  Beg  pardon,  Miss  Claudia,  but  this 
'ere  Mrs  Partridge  now.  I  understands  as  ow 
she's  comin'  'ere  ...  to  be  a  ...  'ousekeeper. 

CLAUDIA.  (Not  looking  at  him)  How  did  you 
know,  Runion?  ,  , 

RUNION.  (In  some  confusion)  I-  I  over  card 
it — er — accidental,  miss. 

CLAUDIA.     (Abstractedly)     Did  you?    Well,  its 

true. 


90  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

RUNION.  Aha !  I  'ad  my  suspicions,  but  'eld  my 
tongue,  'ard  as  it  was  to  'old  it!  Fourteen  years  I 
served  'im  faithful — bore  with  'im — washed  'is 
winders  .  .  .  And  now  'e  goes  and  makes  of  me 
.  .  a  underlin' !  (CLAUDIA  watches  the  fire,  mak 
ing  no  answer.  RUNION  continues  solemnly)  And 
will  I  bow  my  neck?  No,  Miss  Claudia!  Not 
w'ilst  ponds  of  water  can  be  found  in  England, 
w'ere  a  man  can  jump  and  drown  'isself  .  .  .  and 
forget  this  'arsh,  'igh  'andedness. 

CLAUDIA.     (Abstractedly)     Yes,  Runion. 

(RuN ION  is  in  the  act  of  wiping  his  eyes  with  his 
coat  sleeves,  but,  at  CLAUDIA'S  seeming  indif 
ference  he  stops  abruptly,  gazing  at  her  in  hurt 
astonishment.) 

RUNION.  I  say  that  not  w'ilst  ponds  of  water  can 
be — (Pausing)  Beg  pardon,  miss,  but  you  don't 
seem  special  'appy  yourself  now,  at  the  prospeck  o* 
this  'ere  Mrs.  Partridge  a-bumpin'  about. 

CLAUDIA.  No,  Runion,  I'm  not  feeling  vef)£  well. 
(Wiping  her  eyes)  I  wish  you  would  go  across  to 
the  chemist's  and  get  me  some  smelling  salts. 

RUNION.    Er — wot  kind  of  salt,  miss. 

CLAUDIA.     Smelling  salts.    Do  go — please. 

RUNION.  (With  mournful  dignity)  Miss 
Claudia  ....  with  pleasure  will  I  get  your  smell- 
in'  salt  .  .  .  and  especial  so,  as  the  ack  will  be 
.  . ".  the  last  sad  hoffice  of  Marcus  Runion  .  .  . 
in  this  un'appy  'ous'old.  'Ow  many  pounds  do  you 
wish,  miss? 

CLAUDIA.  Only  a  bottle,  Runion.  It  comes  in  a 
small,  green  bottle.  The  chemist  will  know. 

RUNION.  (On  the  verge  of  tears)  Very  good, 
miss.  I  will  'urry — Mr.  Peyton,  miss,  is  old  enough 
to  know  the  workin's  of  the  'uman  mind.  If  'e 
wants  partridges,  'e  can  'ave  partridges,  but  Marcus 
Runion  'e  declines  to  serve  'em. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  91 

(RUNION  stiffens  his  neck  and  exits  majestically, 
while  CLAUDIA  turns  once  more  to  the  fire. 
PEYTON,  with  his  coat  on,  enters  hurriedly  from 
rear,  wiping  his  brow  with  his  handkerchief.) 

PEYTON.  By  George !  but  that  was  close.  (Start 
ing  and  laughing  as  he  sees  CLAUDIA)  Oh,  hullo, 
Piggy.  I  didn't  see  you.  (Turns  and  begins  taking 
off  his  coat) 

CLAUDIA.  (At  fire-place)  Daddy  ....  was  it 
her  husband  who  died?  I — I  didn't  hear. 

PEYTON.  Yes,  dear.  (Laying  his  coat  on  chair) 
I  took  Alice  over  to  her  hotel.  Day  after  to-mor 
row  she  is  going  back  to  America  and 

CLAUDIA.     (Starting  happily)     Oh! 

PEYTON.     (Turning)     What  is  it,  Claudia? 

CLAUDIA.  (In  confusion)  Nothing—only— 
(Turning  to  table)  Gracious,  Dad,  why  didn't  she 
wait  for  her  tea? 

PEYTON.  U'u'm  ...  I  reckon  Alice  forgot  her 
tea  ...  and  so  did  I.  You  see  ...  (Pauses  as 
RUNION  enters  at  rear) 

RUNION.  (Announcing)  The  Earl  of  'Unting- 
ton.  (Exit  RUNION) 

(Enter  JACK  with  a  sheaf  of  roses.) 

PEYTON.    Hullo,  Jack !    Come  in !    Come  in ! 

CLAUDIA.  (Running  toward  him)  Why,  Uncle 
Jack !  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you ! 

JACK.  Are  you,  my  dear?  (Handing  roses) 
Then  I  didn't  stick  my  hands  for  nothing. 

CLAUDIA.  (Taking  flowers)  For  me?  How 
lovely!  You  are  always  thinking  of  me,  Uncle 
Jack. 

JACK.     By  Jove,  Billy,  I  believe  she's  right. 

PEYTON.  Of  course  she's  right.  Claudia  of  ours 
isn't  easy  to  forget.  (As  CLAUDIA  turns  away. 


92  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

placing  flowers  in  vase  on  table  at  left  rear)  Sit 
down,  old  fellow — make  yourself  at  home. 

JACK.  (Seating  himself  in  chair  at  fire-place) 
Thank  you.  It's  the  laziest,  most  comfortable  little 
nest  in  all  London. 

PEYTON.     Mercy!     Have  a  cigar? 

JACK.    Thank  you,  n-e-o. 

PEYTON.  Um — they — they  are  rather  good.  Bet 
ter  change  your  mind. 

JACK.    Thank  you,  n-e-o. 

CLAUDIA.  (Coming  forward  with  spirit  lamp, 
taking  cigar  from  PEYTON  and  crossing  to  JACK) 
Not  even  if  I  light  it,  Uncle  Jack? 

JACK.  (Chuckling)  Well,  of  course,  that's  an 
other  frame — for  the  picture.  (Lighting,  then  pat 
ting  CLAUDIA'S  hand)  Thank  you,  Claudia.  It 
makes  possible  ....  even  one  of  Billy's  bad 
cigars. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Well,  of  all  the  impu 
dence  !  Jack  Rodney,  you're  a  ruffian. 

JACK.    Billy  ...  she's  a  wonder. 

PEYTON.  Of  course,  she's  a  wonder.  Why — (He 
pauses  as  'RuNioN  enters  and  stands  beside  him, 
wearing  a  look  of  rooted  gloom) 

RUNION.  (Loftily)  Beg  pardon,  sir — a  person 
to  see  you — a  Mrs.  Partridge.  .  .  She  'ad  no  card 
.  .  .  and  wouldn't  state  'er  business.  .  .  She's 
awaitin'  in  the  'all. 

PEYTON.  Oh,  yes,  I  know.  Show  her  into  the 
dining-room,  and  say  I  will  see  her  at  once.  (As 
RUNION  still  lingers  disgustedly) 

RUNION.     Er — anythink  more,  sir? 

PEYTON.  (Looking  up  in  astonishment)  No;  I 
believe  that's  all.  (As  RUNION  turns  and  exits  in 
wounded  dignity)  You'll  excuse  me  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  won't  you,  Jack? 

JACK.  (Turning  from  CLAUDIA,  with  whom  he 
if  chatting  in  pantomimed  Delighted. 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  93 

PEYTON.  Wha — Oh!  (He  laughs  and  goes  at 
rear.  CLAUDIA  follows) 

CLAUDIA.  Daddy!  (As  he  pauses)  Is  she  the 
— the  housekeeper? 

PEYTON.    Yes,  Piggy. 

CLAUDIA.  (Looking  at  the  floor)  Then,  I  hope 
you  will  engage  her.  I — I  understand  better  now. 
(PEYTON  places  his  hand  gently  on  her  head,  smiles 
and  exits.  CLAUDIA  stands  for  an  instant  looking 
after  him)  A  Prince  Chap  grows  into  a  King, 
doesn't  he? 

JACK.  (Turning  his  head)  A  what  kind  of  a 
chap? 

CLAUDIA.    A  Prince. 

JACK.  Um — yes.  It  has  happened  .  .  .  several 
times.  Why  do  you  arsk?  (He  sits  on  the  arm9 of 
the  chair  facing  her) 

CLAUDIA.  I  didn't  ask.  I  was  only  thinking. 
(She  turns  in  a  moment,  half  kneeling  on  the  settee) 
Do  you  know,  I'm  rather  glad  we  are  alone.  There 
is  a  little  matter  of  business  I  wish  to  settle  with 
you. 

JACK.     (Astonished)     Business  with  me? 

CLAUDIA.  (Sitting  on  settee,  leaning  forward 
and  resting  her  chin  on  her  hands)  If  you  had 
something  which  /  wanted  very,  very  much,  would 
— would  you  sell  it  to  me  ? 

JACK.  '  N-e-o.  Wouldn't  think  of  it.  Would 
make  you  a  present,  my  dear,  down  to  my  last  lawn 
tie. 

CLAUDIA.  (Laughing)  Oh,  it  isn't  as  bad  as 
that,  Uncle  Jack;  and,  really,  I  don't  want  this 
something  for  myself  after  all.  It's  only  a  bad 
habit.  One  of  yours.  I  want  to  buy  it. 

JACK.  (Staring  in  wonder)  A  bad  habit  .  .  . 
O-h!  (Pause)  That  is  rather  valuable.  It— it 
isn't  swearing  a  bit  now  and  then,  is  it? 

CLAUDIA.  And  is  swearing  a  bit  so  essential  to 
your  happiness? 


94  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

JACK.  Absolutely,  my  dear — absolutely!  Some 
beastly  model  .  .  .  wants  to  stand  on  her  silly  head. 
Some  beastly  critic  .  .  .  wants  to  stand  on  mine. 
No,  really,  Claudia — I 

CLAUDIA.  Well,  it  isn't  swearing,  Uncle  Jack. 
Swearing  is  not  a  habit.  It's  a  luxury.  Wish  I 
could  do  it  myself  sometimes.  (Smiling)  No;  it's 
only  a  little  sin.  You  wouldn't  miss  it — much.  Will 
you  sell? 

JACK.    To  you?    Ha,  ha!    What  will  you  give? 

CLAUDIA.     (Carelessly)     A  kiss. 

JACK.  (Rising  and  facing  her)  Done!  I'll  take 
you  ...  in  advance. 

CLAUDIA.  (Placing  her  heels  together,  her  hands 
behind  her  back,  leaning  forward  and  pursing  her 
lips)  The  price  is  waiting,  Uncle  Jack.  (JACK 
hesitates,  then  kisses  her  warmly  and  turns  away 
with  a  look  of  supreme  satisfaction.  CLAUDIA 
smoothes  her  hair  and  laughs) 

JACK.  Do  you  know,  my  dear,  I  wish  I  were  a 
very  wicked  old  fellow — atrocious. 

CLAUDIA.     Do  you?    Why? 

JACK.  I  should  begin  at  the  beginning  .  .  .  and 
dispose  of  all  my  vices  .  .  .  one  at  a  time  ....  at 
a  profit. 

CLAUDIA.  Too  bad!  I've  bought  the  only  one. 
(Coming  to  him  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoul 
der)  And  now  your  part  of  the  contract.  You 
mustn't  ever  again  .  .  .  call  Daddy — er — Billy. 

JACK.  (In  wonder)  Not  call  Billy  .  k  .  Billy? 
Why? 

CLAUDIA.  (Slipping  her  arm  through  his)  Well, 
you  see — er — why,  Uncle  Jack,  that's  a  goat's  name. 

JACK.    A  goat  ?    O — h ! 

CLAUDIA.  (Stepping  azvay)  And,  besides,  it — 
it  doesn't  sound  respectful,  somehow.  (Extending 
hand)  But,  there — I  have  your  promise,  haven't  I? 

JACK.  (Taking  her  hand)  O'om  .  .  .  Yes.  I 
shall  call  him — er — Wil-lium.  (Turning  to  L.) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  95 

Droll  idea !  Devilish  droll !  (After  reflective  turn) 
Er — Claudia  ...  I  should  like  to  arsk  a  similar 
favor  ...  of  you. 

CLAUDIA.    Would  you  ?    What  is  it  ? 

JACK.  You  have  a  bad  habit,  my  dear.  Should 
like  uncommonly  well  for  you  to  dispose  of  it. 
(Stands  as  CLAUDIA  did  when  about  to  be  kissed) 

CLAUDIA.  (Laughing  as  she  retreats)  It  is 
yours.  It's  name. 

JACK.     Don't  call  me — er — Uncle  Jack. 

CLAUDIA.      No?    What  then? 

JACK.  Call  me  ....  (Seating  himself  slowly) 
Ja-ack. 

CLAUDIA.  (Laughing)  How  absurd.  I  couldn't 
do  that — really. 

JACK.    Why  not? 

CLAUDIA.  Well,  you  were  a  great  big  grown 
man  when  I  was  a  little  thing,  no  bigger  than — than 
a  lump  of  chalk.  You  even  used  to  ride  me  on 
your  foot.  (Sitting  beside  him  and  pointing  ft  his 
feet)  Don't  you  remember?  This  one  was  Robbin 
and  that  one  was  Dobbin.  And  such  splendid 
horses,  too! 

JACK.  Y-e-s;  there  were  three  of  them,  I  be 
lieve.  A  couple  of  hacks  and  a  Jack.  Ha,  ha! 
That's  a  joke. 

CLAUDIA.  But,  it  wasn't  a  joke  to  me,  then,  and 
it  isn't  now,  for  I  will  remember  it  always,  ever 
though  it  was  such  a  long  time  ago. 

JACK.  (Moving  a  little  closer)  And  do  you 
think  me,  then,  such  a  very  old  fellow — such  an 
antiquated — er — Methuseleh  ? 

CLAUDIA.  (Laughing)  The  idea!  I  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  Why,  you  are  scarcely  a 
year  older  than  Daddy;  and  Daddy  is — is  just  a 
boy. 

JACK.  Thank  you,  Claudia.  (For  a  moment  he 
studies  his  boots  in  silence)  And  what  would 
you  think  ...  if  one  of  these  boys — these  very 


96  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

ancient  boys  —  were  to  ask  you  ...  to  be  ...  his 
wife? 

CLAUDIA.  (Merrily)  You?  I  think  I  should 
just  laugh,  (Laughing  as  she  rises)  for  that  would 
be  the  funniest  joke  of  all.  Yes,  Uncle  Jack,  I 
know  I  should  —  just  laugh.  (Laughs  merrily  as 
she  crosses  to  arm  chair  at  fire-place) 

JACK.  (Following  her  and  speaking  earnestly) 
But,  don't  laugh,  Claudia  —  don't  —  I  beg  you.  I'm 
offering  you  my  name  —  my  life  —  (As  CLAUDIA 
starts,  he  sinks  his  voice,  speaking  sadly)  It  isn't 
much  of  a  life  when  all  is  said  and  done  .  .  .  but, 
without  you,  it's  worthless  —  worthless  as  a  dry  and 
twisted  paint  tube  - 

CLAUDIA.  (In  a  troubled  tone)  Oh,  Uncle  Jack, 
I  —  I  didn't  know.  (Turns  to  firelight) 

JACK.  (Taking  her  hand)  But,  now  that  you 
do  know,  Claudia  —  tell  me. 

CLAUDIA.  (With  her  head  turned  away)  Don't 
ask  me  that  —  please  —  please  — 

JACK.     But,  some  day  —  might  it  not  —  be  so? 

CLAUDIA.  (Turning  and  giving  him  her  other 
hand)  Oh,  Uncle  Jack,  I  do  love  you  —  dearly  — 
tenderly  —  as  I  have  always  done;  but  not,  not  as 
you  would  have  me  care.  (He  drops  her  hand  and 
turns  sadly  away.  CLAUDIA  follows  him,  placing 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder  affectionately,  her  other 
hand  on  his  arm)  Don't  be  angry  with  me.  I 
wouldn't  wound  you  for  all  the  treasures  I  possess 
or  hope  to  own.  But,  can't  we  go  on  and  on  as 
Claudia  and  Uncle  Jack?  And  won't  you  let  me 
love  you  always  —  better  than  anyone  elese  —  except 


JACK.  (In  a  whispered  aside)  Daddy.  (Turn 
ing  qufetly)  My  dear  ...  I  shall  never  speak  of 
this  again.  (Offers  his  hand,  which  she  takes  in 
hers)  Forget,  I  beg  you,  the  maddest  of  an  old 
fogy's  follies.  It  came  from  a  hungry  heart  .  .  . 
when  the  head  was  far  too  dull  .  .  to  teach  it 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  97 

reason.  (Turns  away,  then  turns  to  her  again) 
But,  tell  me  something,  dear  ...  I  ask  it  for  your 
sake,  if  not  my  own.  Is  it  Daddy  ...  or  Mr.  Pey 
ton  .  .  .  whom  you  love? 

CLAUDIA.  (Starting  violently)  Mr.  Pey —  Why 
— you 

JACK.  (Gently)  Yes,  dear.  You  are  a  woman 
now — and 

CLAUDIA.  (Retreating,  but  keeping  her  startled 
eyes  upon  him)  Uncle  Jack!  You — you  have  no 
right  to  ask  me  that — you — Oh!  .  .  .  Oh!  (She 
covers  her  face  with  her  hands,  bursts  into  tears 
and  runs  up  stairs  at  rear,  sobbing.  JACK  stands 
for  a  moment  looking  after  her.  Then  his  hands 
fall  to  his  sides.  He  crosses  to  fire-place,  sits  in 
arm  chair,  and  puffs  once  at  his  cigar) 

JACK.  Vicious  cigar,  that — absolutely  vicious! 
(He  tosses  it  into  fire-place,  polishes  monocle  with 
his  handkerchief,  and  sits  drumming  with  his  fingers 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  PEYTON  enters  from  rear) 

PEYTON.    Hello,  Jack!    All  alone? 

JACK.     N-e-o.     You  .  .  .  are  with  me. 

PEYTON.  (Laughing)  Hadn't  thought  of  that. 
Where's  Claudia? 

JACK.    Up  stairs. 

PEYTON.  (Coming  down  L.  c.)  H'm!  Ran 
away  and  left  you,  eh?  What  did  she  do  that  for? 

JACK.  (Fiercely)  In  order  to  reach  the  upper 
floor,  I  suppose! 

PEYTON.  (Walking  around  JACK  and  surveying 
him  with  intense  amusement)  Uum  .  .  .  Uumf 
What's  the  matter  with  you,  anyway? 

JACK.  (Rising)  Don't  be  silly,  Bil— er— Wil- 
lium. 

PEYTON.  (His  hand  dropping  on  JACK'S  shoul 
der)  Now,  look  here,  old  chap,  there':,  something 
gone  amiss.  You  can't  foci  me  for  a  mintu  .  (As 
JACK  sits  dejected  on  settee)  My !  what  a  hang  dog 


98  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

air!  (Laughing)  Upon  my  word,  Jack,  you  look 
as  though  you  had  stolen  something. 

JACK.     Did  try— er— Wil-lium.     Failed. 

PEYTON.  (Puzzled)  Tried?  Failed  .  .  .  What 
are  you  driving  at? 

JACK.  (Sadly)  Tried  to  steal  your  little  girl 
.  .  .  Wouldn't  have  me. 

PEYTON.  (Between  surprise  and  gentleness) 
Oh  ....  Jack!  (Sits  beside  him,  placing  hand 
on  his  shoulder)  Come,  old  fellow;  I  didn't  know 
you  cared  like — like  this  .  .  .  and  I'm  sorry.  I 
know  the  day  must  come  when  she  will  leave  me  .  » 
and  there's  no  one  else  in  the  whole  world,  Jack, 
with  whom  I  would  rather  trust  her. 

JACK.     (Dryly)     Thank  you. 

PEYTON.  (Dreamily)  And  yet  ...  when  I 
know  that  she  is  to  be  left  to  me  for  a  little  while 
longer  still — (Rising)  forgive  me  for  saying  it — 
but  there's  something  here  .  .  .  that  is  glad — glad. 

JACK.     (More  dryly)     Yes  ....  I  dare  say. 

PEYTON.  (After  short  pause)  But,  tell  me, 
Jack,  why  did  Claudia  refuse  you  ? 

JACK.     (Turning  suddenly)     Don't  you  know? 

PEYTON.     (Smiling)     Well,  no.    How  should  I? 

JACK.  (After  polishing  his  monocle,  advances 
to  PEYTON  solemnly)  Wil-lium  .  .  .  upon  several 
occasions  .  .  .  you  have  criticized  me  rather  se 
verely  .  .  .  for  wearing  a  single  .  .  .  eye-glass. 
Damn  it,  old  fellow,  get  two !  (  Turning  away,  then 
back  again)  Spectacles,  Wil-lium  .  .  .  spectacles! 
(He  crosses  to  right.  PEYTON  looks  at  him  in 
amazement.  JACK  suddenly  snaps  the  cord  of  his 
monocle  and  hands  it  to  PEYTON)  Take  that,  old 
man.  It's  better  than  none  at  all.  (PEYTON  still 
looks  perplexed,  when  at  that  moment  CLAUDIA 
appears  at  rear  on  the  stair  landing) 

CLAUDIA.  Uncle  Ja — (She  stops  as  she  dis 
covers  PEYTON,  and  is  about  to  retreat  when  he 
<rosses  to  her) 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  99 

PEYTON.  (Gently)  There,  dear.  I  know  all 
about  it  ...  and  it's  all  right.  (Leading  her  for 
ward  to  fire-place  and  turning)  Sit  down,  Jack. 

JACK.    Thank  you,  n-e-o. 

PEYTON.  Oh,  do — please — there!s  a  good  fel 
low — come. 

JACK.  Thank  you,  n-e-o.  That  Musgrove  chap 
— who  thinks  he  paints — promised  to  bore  me  for 
half  an  hour  at  the  Club.  Never  knew  him  to  break 
his  word.  (Turning)  Good-night,  Claudia. 

CLAUDIA.  (Running  to  him,  while  PEYTON  goes 
near  piano  looking  at  monocle)  Uncle  Jack  .  ;  . 
it  won't  make  any  difference  between  us,  will  it? 

JACK.     (Softly)     No,  dear.     It  won't  make  any 
difference.     (He  raises  her  fingers  to  his  lips, 
then  turns  with  a  brave  smile  to  PEYTON)     Good 
night,  goat. 

PEYTON.     (Turning)     Eh — what! 

JACK.     (In  doorway)     Goat!    Promised  Claudia 
wouldn't  call  you— er— Billy.     That's  a  joke. 
Ha,  ha!     Good-night,  goat. 

PEYTON.  (Crossing  to  door  and  calling  after 
him)  Good-night,  old  chap  .  .  .  Good-night.  (He 
stands  for  an  instant,  advances  with  a  sigh  and 
shakes  his  head)  Poor  old  Jack!  How  bravely  he 
bears  his  disappointment!  (He  looks  at  CLAUDIA, 
who  is  still  standing  at  fire-place)  He  told  me  of 
his  failure— simply— honestly—  (Reflectively,  as  he 
twirls  his  monocle)  But,  when  I  asked  him  a  rather 
pointed  question  regarding  it,  do  you  know,  he 
gave  me  a  very  curious  answer.  (As  CLAUDIA 
looks  up  quickly,  fumbling  with  her  handkerchief) 
By  the  way,  Claudia,  what  was  your  reason? 

CLAUDIA.  (Nervously)  I— I  didn't  care  for  him 
in — in  the  way  he  wished. 

PEYTON.  (Swinging  monocle)  Yes,  yes,  I  un 
derstand,  of  course.  The  very  best  reason  in  the 
world.  And  yet  he's— a  mighty  good  fellow  to 
the  woman  who  understands  him — (He  breaks  off 


100  THE  PRINCE  CHAP. 

suddenly  to  laugh)  He  is  rather  difficult  to  take 
seriously  at  times.  When  I  asked  him  the  reason 
why  you — er — rejected  him,  he — well,  what  do  you 
think  he  told  me?  (CLAUDIA  glances  at  him  nerv 
ously,  rolling  her  handkerchief  between  her  palms) 
Said  I  needed  spectacles — and  gave  me  this. 
(Twirls  monocle)  Now,  what  do  you  reckon  he 
meant?  (CLAUDIA  looks  at  him  in  nervous  fear, 
and  begins  to  retreat  towards  door  at  R.  PEYTON 
continues,  unconscious  of  her  movements)  Specta 
cles!  ....  H'u'm !  ....  (He  screws  monocle  to 
his  eye  and  looks  up  with  a  boyish  smile)  Well! 
.  .  .  this  doesn't  seem  to  help  me  much  !  (He  turns 
to  find  CLAUDIA  retreating,  takes  monocle  from  his 
eye,  while  he  at  once  becomes  serious)  Claudia! 
(She  pauses  and  looks  at  the  floor  in  confusion) 
Ah,  darling,  is  there  something  you  are  hiding  from 
me?  Something  I  should  see — should  know? 
(Tenderly)  Don't,  dear  .  .  .  Come — let  us  laugh 
away  this  foolish  little  ghost — the  first  to  mar  our 
perfect  understanding.  Come — kiss  me — (As  he 
eendeavors  to  place  his  arms  about  her,  she  slips 
away) 

CLAUDIA.     No,  Daddy — no — no — no! 

(PEYTON'S  extended  arms  sink  to  his  sides,  and  he 
looks  at  her  in  hurt  wonder.  After  a  short 
pause  he  looks  from  her  to  the  monocle  in  his 
hand,  then  back  at  her  averted  figure.  He 
raises  his  hand,  while  a  light  of  happiness 
overspreads  his  features.) 

PEYTON.  Oh!  (He  takes  a  step  nearer,  speak 
ing  in  a  whisper)  Claudia!  (As  she  makes  no 
answer)  Is  it  true,  then,  that  my  eyes  are  older 
than  my  heart  .  .  .  and  yours  ? 

CLAUDIA.  (Retreating  as  he  comes  toward  her) 
No,  no— I  don't  want  "to  come  between  you  and 
your  Princess  Alice—  She's  free— free  to 


THE  PRINCE  CHAP.  101 

PEYTON.  (Catching  her  hands  and  holding  them} 
And,  don't  you  remember,  dear,  when  you  were  a 
little  girl  how  I  took  your  hands  and  told  you  how 
I  loved  you  better  than  anything  else  in  the  world, 
and  that  nothing,  nothing  should  ever  come  between 
us? 

CLAUDIA.  (Trying  to  release  her  hands)  But 
— but  you  would  sacrifice  yourself — for  me—as 
you  have  always  done — you 

PEYTON.  I  told  you,  too,  it  was  a  different  kind 
of  love ;  but  I  see  it  clearer  now  .  .  .  through  poor 
Jack's  glass. 

CLAUDIA.  (Drawing  her  hands  away)  But, 
Daddy 

PEYTON.  Daddy  no  more  ...  I  want  you  for 
my  wife!  ....  we  have  built  a  house  of  love. 
...  It  is  yours  .  .  .  and  mine!  (Spreading  his 
arms)  Claudia!  .  .  .  Come  home!  (She  looks  up 
at  him  with  a  happy  smile.  He  takes  a  step  forward 
and  folds  her  in  his  arms) 

CURTAIN. 


DOROTHY'S  NEIGHBORS. 

A  brand  new  comedy  in  four  acts,  by  Marie  Doran,.  author  of  "The 
New  Co-Ed,"  "Tempest  and  Sunshine,"  and  many  other  successful  plays. 
4  males,  7  females.  The  scenes  are  extremely  easy  to  arrange ;  two  plain 
interiors  and  one  exterior,  a  garden,  or,  if  necessary,  the  two  interiors 
will  answer.  Costumes  modern.  Plays  W/z  hours. 

The  story  is  about  vocational  trainimg,  a  subject  now  widely  discussed;  also, 
the  distribution  of  large  wealth. 

Back  of  the  oomedy  situation  and  snappy  dialogue  there  is  good  logic  and 
1  sound  moral  in  this  pretty  play,  which  is  worthy  the  attention  of  the  experi 
enced  amateur.  It  is  a  clean,  wholesome  play,  particularly  suited  to  high  school 
production.  Price,  30  Cents. 


MISS  SOMEBODY  ELSE. 

A  modern  play  in  four  acts  by  Marion  Short,  author  of  "The  Touch 
down,"  etc.  6,  males,  10  females.  Two  interior  scenes.  Costumes  mod 
ern.  Plays  2J4  hours. 

This  delightful  comedy  has  gripping  dramatic  moments,  unusual  character 
types,  a  striking  and  original  plot  and  is  essentially  modern  in  theme  and  treat- 
ment.  The  story  concerns  the  adventures  of  Constance  Darcy,  a  multi-million 
aire's  young  daughter.  Constance  embarks  on  a  trip  to  find  a  young  man  who 
had  been  in  her  father's  employ  and  had  stolen  a  large  sum  of  -money.  She 
almost  succeeds,  when  suddenly  all  traces  of  the  young  man  are  lost.  At  this 
point  she  meets  some  old  friends  who  are  living  in  almost  want  and,  in  order  to 
assist  them  through  motives  benevolent,  she  determines  to  sink  her  own  aristo 
cratic  personality  in  that  of  a  refined  but  humble  little  Irish  waitress  with  the 
family  that  are  in  want.  She  not  only  carries  her  scheme  to  success  in  assisting 
the  family,  but  finds  romance  and  much  tense  and  lively  adventure  during  the 
period  of  her  incognito,  aside  from  capturing  the  young  man  who  had  defrauded 
her  father.  The  story  is  full  of  bright  comedy  lines  and  dramatic  situations  and 
is  highly  recommended  for  amateur  production.  This  is  one  of  the  best  come 
dies  we  have  ever  offered  with  a  large  number  of  female  characters.  The  dialogue 
13  bright  and  the  play  is  full  of  action  from  start  to  finish;  not  a  dull  moment  in 
it.  This  is  a  great  comedy  for  high  schools  and  colleges,  arid  the  wholesom* 
story  will  please  the  parents  and  teachers.  We  strongly  recommend  it. 

Price,  30  Cents 


PURPLE  AND  FINE  LINEN. 

An  exceptionally  pretty  comedy  of  Puritan  New  England,  in  three 
acts,  by  Amita  B.  Fairgrieve  and  Helena  Miller.  9  male,  5  female  char 
acters. 

This  is  the  Lend  A  Hand  Smith  College  prize  play.  It  is  an  admirable  play 
for  amateurs,  is  rich  in  character  portrayal  of  varied  types  and  is  not  too  difficult 
while  thoroughly  pleasing.  Price,  30  Cents. 

(The  Above  Are  Subject  to  Royalty  When  Produced) 
SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 

Wew  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  Request 


FRENCH'S 

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Anthony  Hope 

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H.  V.  Esmond 

Mark  Swan 

Grace  L.  Furniss 

Marguerite  Merrington 

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